Sole Duty
by xMissFortune
Summary: What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]
1. Chapter 1

83) '**Sole Duty**' (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary**: What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that.

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F; Mavis;

**Rating:** T

**Beta:** LovelyWeather

* * *

**Sole Duty**

**Chapter 1**

The silence pressed heavily on his ears. Bearable, but unwelcome. Chin resting on the table, Gray Fullbuster stared at the glass filled to the brim. The coppery color of beer and the rift of bubbles held his attention.

"... such a waste," he muttered. The hard surface of the table was uncomfortably firm against his jaw's movements. He moved his eyes a fraction to the side to look at the person occupying the opposite side of the table. A head of chocolate brown hair was snuggled in between two skinny arms. Only dark puffy eyes were exposed, staring at something well beyond the glass and bubbles.

His eyebrows narrowed in annoyance. "You _do_ know you're letting a perfectly good beer go to waste?" He said giving a weak snarl before straightening up, elbows firmly resting on the table now. "It's meant for _drinking_, not staring." Despite the almost motherly-like scolding, Cana Alberona had yet to show any signs of desire to do so. Forget drinking it, she outright displayed zero interest in anything but staring through the glass in front of her.

Gray leaned his cheek against his fist and disinterestedly turned his head to the side. His eyes stopped on the far-off lit candle, placed on a small round table and surrounded by picture frames. His expression, irked and sharp as it was, subtly melted into something sad, then painful and, finally, numb.

"...I'd drink it," he mumbled after a while, shifting his shoulders just enough to glance at Cana, who was still in the same position as before: hunched over the table, staring and unseeing. Her eyes were glossy again. It made him angry.

"For fuck's sake, Cana!" Gray snapped, slamming both his fists on the table, growling. "Just drink the stupid thing and go home already! You're pissing me off! I thought that-" He stopped mid-sentence, biting back the words he unjustly wanted to say as hard as he bit his bottom lip. His fist trembled. "Shit..." he breathed out. Running his fingers through his hair in frustration, he laced them together at the back of his head and tiredly slumped forward, his forehead pressing against the table and his arms shielding his head like a child. "Shit."

Silence engulfed them again. It blurred the lines between seconds, minutes and hours, holding them captive in an illusion that time was frozen.

"... -ease."

His voice awkwardly slipped unexpectedly, cracking like thin ice in all the wrong places. He didn't care. Worrying his bottom lip, he repeated, "...please... _please_, Cana." His fingers, which were already woven into the strands of his black hair, tightened and held on. "J-Just..."

Pressure built up in his throat. Unsorted words and emotions knotted up into a clog he didn't know how to sort out. "Just... just go home already." And that was all it took. He could feel himself starting to slip. "Drink it. Dump it. I don't care anymore, just do _something,_ you damn **hypocrite.**"

He was met with no response. Silence held its note long and steady around them. He could feel the first jabs of guilt start to settle in. "No- that's not right... I'm sorry..." The Ice-alchemist sighed and looked up straight at her. Her eyes glimmered in the candle's light, warm and gentle, like dying ember. He couldn't remember if he had ever complimented them. Slowly, Gray shifted until he mirrored her pose, fancying her eyes in silence as they remained snuggled in between shadows and the gentle candle-glow.

Hard lines rimmed her eyes. Chapped and dry lips. Limp and slightly greasy locks fell down her face. There was the unexpected tilt of a small smile in the corner of his lips. "You look like a wreck," he muttered, his face going softer and more relaxed like it always did when he was with one of his dearest and longest friends.

"Simply awful," he commented, smile lingering and giving a good-natured chuckle just like he always would when she came into the guild-hall with a hangover. He'd tease how drunk her dates must have been before they took her out and she'd reply with that slightly bitchy smirk and flip him the fing-

"-Cana?"

Dark brown eyes snapped up and out of their daze. A silhouette with long platinum blond hair stood in front of the vacant guild's bar. A dull pink blanket-like scarf was draped over her shoulders and a matching colored purse was held in front of her in both her hands.

"I'm locking up," Mirajane said with an apologetic tilt of her head. Her face was void of its usual smile, but not of the gentleness it always held.

Suddenly realizing she was mentally miles away, the Card mage took in the absence of light, the eerie atmosphere of the hall which was rid of its usual people and sound, the empty tables surrounding her, the untouched glass of beer in front of her- the only companion she had for the night.

_Again._ A guilty grimace flashed across her face. She bit her lip before sighing, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger. "I'm sorry."

The bartender stepped up to her, her hair swaying as she shook her head gently. "Don't be," she said, gently placing a hand upon her shoulder. "Do you want me to put it away?"

"No," she breathed out, subtly escaping the girl's hand. "I got it." The brown-haired woman took the glass by its handle and brought it to her lips. She hesitated for the briefest of moments. Then, with a single synchronized movement of her head and hand, the copper concoction was gone down her throat. The burn and bite of alcohol were dull on her tongue, weak and sour. And that left a different type of foul aftertaste inside her mouth.

"Are we trying a different brand?" Cana wiped the corners of her lips with the back of her hand. Somehow, she suspected she already knew answer to that question.

"No," the other replied. "Some old one."

"I see... "

"I'll be back in a minute."

A slow nod of her head was her only answer while Mirajane tended to the last glass for the night.

Leaning her head into her hand, Cana took a long look around the guild-hall. Her eyes lingered in the direction of the candle, her indifferent face crumbling a bit before moving on. Passing over the empty seats and tables, the mission-board littered with jobs very few took now, the tapestries and recognitions the guild received in the past hanging off the walls, Cana couldn't help but think the atmosphere surrounding her now was far better than the one during daytime.

~~ ( O ) ~~

_Click._

The old lock on the wooden double doors of Fairy Tail snapped closed. Giving the doors a gentle nudge out of habit, the S-ranked mage noted they were securely shut, marking another day officially over.

Placing the keys into her purse, Mirajane stepped away and turned to her companion. "Thank you for waiting for me."

"It would have been rude of me not to." The Card Mage shrugged before rubbing her hands up and down her upper-arms. "Shit, it's cold..." she commented offhandedly, putting on and zipping up her jacket. Her breath came out in thin white puffs of air. They were comforting to look at. She wondered if the alcohol was finally kicking in.

Mira carefully watched her, anxiety and worry urging her to speak. Her hand squeezed the strap of her purse. "Cana..."

The gentle way her name was spoken had the said mage straightening up, yawning and pretending like she hadn't heard the echo of a distant memory. "What is it?"

Pressing her lips together, the blond looked her straight in the eyes, trying to establish a connection with the woman that was well beyond words and false fronts. "... if you want to talk... I'm here. Okay?"

Closing her brown eyes, a slow, practised smile spread across her lips. "Thanks," she said and looked into Mira's eyes. It felt wrong. "... but I'm fine."

Turning her back to girl, she adjusted the strap of her own bag. "You should worry more about the rest of them."_ Heaven knows they have it worse than me. _

For a moment, repulsing as it was, she hoped that it was true.

"Goodnight Mira," she said, urging herself to keep a slow pace towards her home and not count the seconds it would take her to hide from prying eyes. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah..." Mira mumbled, failing to keep the troubled tone of her voice from surfacing. "Tomorrow."

~~ ( O ) ~~

He watched the doors close, he waited for the soft click of the lock, and then with a sigh he let his head fall face-down onto the table. "Fucking great."

In the absence of the two wizards, the hush of the evening finally settled upon the guild. True, both girls had been quiet in their own way, but their presents kept the full-blown sense of solitude away. Turning his head, the alchemist absentmindedly noted that the candle was left lit. If there was a way to find comfort in that fact, he didn't see it. He didn't want to.

Silence was nudging at him, and like a reflex to avoid the unpleasant feeling of acknowledging it, he began re-running the one-sided conversation he had had with Cana. Between the loneliness and the self-loathing, strangely enough the later seemed like lesser of two evils. He had snapped at her. He shouldn't have. He had no right. And as if the shame Gray was feeling wasn't enough, he was becoming more and more aware that he was slipping. Slipping and not really caring. Scary.

The warning he was given echoed in the back of his mind. He had taken it for granted. He had underestimated it. Or, maybe it was more in the lines of: he had overestimated himself. And that... that was a really, _really_ shitty feeling.

He was considering trying to hit his head against the desk repeatedly, for the sake of chasing away the quiet, when a familiar voice startled him. "Hello."

Involuntary the muscles in his back tensed. It took him a full moment to come to terms who had spoken to him.

Oh, GOD, not again.

He took it back. He wanted the silence. Seriously. He'd take that over _this_ no questions asked. He wasn't sure how much more could he (or his sanity for that matter) be able to take: all the smiles and rainbows and fucking sparkles raining down on him like bullshit.

Maybe if he ignored her _for once_, she'd get the hint and-

"Heeeeeeellooooooo?" A finger poked his head.

_Wishful thinking._ He cringed. The poking continued. With a sigh, he resigned to his fate, obnoxious as it was.

"Hello." His monotone voice earned him a childish giggle. Grey was not amused in the slightest.

"I see you're getting more and more pleasant with each greeting."

"What can I say?" He replied, sarcasm heavy on his tongue. "You choose all the right moments to show up."

He was met with another giggle. He could almost _feel_ that perpetual smile on her lips. It annoyed the hell out of him. "Hehehe, it's kind of hard to pick a right moment when you're brooding_ all_ the time."

"I am **not** brooding," he defended himself, eyes narrowed and snapping up to look into deep green ones.

Sitting in front of him, with her fingers intertwined, the little girl watched him with wide energized eyes. Golden locks framed her chubby and youthful face with a softness that no commercial or product in Sorcerer-weekly could compare. Wing-like hairpins decorated the crown on her head- they suited her frilly dress and overall childlike look.

Grey frowned at her. "Why are you here anyway?"

"Well," Mavis said innocently. "This _is_ my home." She smiled at him and Gray swore he saw glitter suspend in the air around her. He had no idea how the hell she was doing it and figured it must have been some saint or first-guild-master-I'm-so-magical shit. He really didn't care but it was making his eyes bleed.

"And," she continued, tilting her head to the side and bringing one of her hands up to the neck-line of her dress to finger the lace there. "I thought you'd like some company."

He felt his muscles tense again and warning bells going off in his head._ Of course that's why she'd suddenly appear,_ he couldn't help but think bitterly.

"You seem like you could use some." Her eyes beckoned him with a gentleness that put him on edge and his instincts urged him to outright deny it. So he did exactly that.

Before she could interject with anything else, Gray maneuvered himself up. He had no interest in going down that road again. "Sorry to disappoint," he bit out, staring at her with hard eyes. "But I was_ just_ on my way out."

He held her gaze intensely, as if daring her to call him out on such a blatant lie. In return she only stared back, the smile still lingering on her lips, but her eyes going softer. "I see." She closed them for a brief moment and rested her cheek on her palm. "That's a shame."

She could feel the scowl aimed at her, and the torrent of emotions once again stirring under a calm exterior. By the time she opened her forest-green eyes again he'd already left and she was sitting alone in the guild-hall. She could already see him. Out in the streets, walking around pointlessly with his hands in his pocket and head low, rebuilding and reassembling the forts of his mind that started collapsing in on themselves.

Mavis turned her head towards the candle and observed the gentle dance of its flame. "He has a good heart," she said gently. "Many of you weren't all that much different, if I recall correctly." A fond smile graced her lips as she hopped to her bare feet. "And you know I can't do that."

Padding her way to the little round table, she linked her hands behind her back. "You keep forgetting," she said to the room. "We're not saints... We're just good people." Stopping right in front of the table, her eyes lingered on the candle for a while, its flicker reflecting perfectly in them. "_They're_ just good people."

"They strive," she untangled her fingers, and gently held herself. "Fight for what they believe in. Relish in living," she said affectionately. _Proudly_. And then her voice gained a sadder note. "But that's the problem, isn't it?"

She stood still for a few moments, and then the blond spirit looked up to the empty guild-hall. "You wanna do it?" She was met with silence.

"Okay," she said, tucking a stray blond lock of hair behind her ear and bending down until the candle's flame reached her mouth. Mavis pursed her lips as gently and lovingly as a mother placing a kiss upon a sleeping child would.

"Rest in piece..." she whispered and blew out the candle.

The picture of a young man faded into the darkness.

"… Gray Fullbuster."

* * *

**So here I am, indulging one of my recent obsessions, Gray Fullbuster and Fairy Tail. Interesting how instead of doing one of the million story ideas I have, I choose the AU which deals with his death.**

**Want to share: an opinion, favorite part, quote, character? You know where to click.**

**xMF**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wooo a long chapter! Well longer than the introduction. Anyway, heads up: there's no Gray in this chapter!**

**Much love and 'thank you's to:** AsDarknessSpreads, alexadru, Animegal2013, Cake-Addict, FoxFire33, Kaeru Aka, PlutoGenesis, emily. payne. 925, KarinEvansEater, Relfed **and everyone else who took their time to read my story. You guys are awesome. :)**

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that.

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F; Mavis; Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather;

* * *

**Chapter 2**

Year X791, 7th July, was a day engraved into people's minds.

The night echoed in deafening screams, roars and explosions utterly impossible to tune out.

It was war.

It was death, fear and struggle reigning the dark streets and demolished houses of Fiore's capital, Crocus. But despite the rubble beneath her feet and the debris and thunderous carnage around her, Ultear Milkovich found herself overwhelmed not by the chaos, but by her own inner turmoil.

Because when one utterly gave up on themselves what did the rest of the world matter, be it war or peace?

It was selfish, she knew. Utterly selfish and vain and **stupid** because people were _dying_ all around her and she couldn't make herself care while collapsing on her knees, feeling sick to her stomach. Again. Again she had thought that the means justify the end. Because what did one innocent soul mean when compared to the million of others?

She was selfish.

So, so selfish and so very, very wrong, that she felt like vomiting her own wretched soul out.

Had her eyes not been burning with rivulets of tears, the time mage would have barked in maniacal laughter bubbling beneath her lungs at how pathetic and pitiful it all was. Assembling a group of pariahs and playing some... some_ liberator_ who sought justice and good and redemption and then outright considered ending a person's life with a drop of the hat.

She wasn't a liberator.

She... she was nothing.

Just a sin-filled, vile heap of_ nothing._

Her hands trembled, and staring at them, Ultear couldn't help but think back on the black-haired eighteen-year-old who had given her a second chance at this life. It was a mistake of his clouded judgment. But then again, how could a boy who was taught creation magic and the value of life at an too early age not and try to save someone as misshaped as her? Whose sole drive was anger and best skill manipulation?

That was the difference between them. He would try. Whereas she wouldn't.

This was her. And no amount of good deeds could erase the line she had crossed one too many times in the past. A witch's sin.

The realization that she hasn't changed despite her best effort to do so was disheartening and painful, Ultear had to wonder how he was able to do it. Make himself into something so outstanding and brilliant from the little angsty and angry runt he was. She wished she could be at least half the person he is. Someone who can create and save, not someone who manipulates and makes discord.

And maybe... Maybe she could.

Her trembling hands gently touched the ground. The symbols of the lost magic she learned ran through her head and a bright circle appeared on the ground surrounding her.

The Last Aegis.

If... she gave up her time, this sad and pathetic excuse for a life she had led tricking and mocking people, maybe... maybe this could be her redemption.

Gray had used his hands to save lives. Her hands didn't know how to do that. So she might as well use her life instead.

Pressure and energy climbed up her arms and legs. The magical power painfully teared into her physique. She was fully intending to use it. To do good. To feel that she did something with a meaning.

Until she heard a scream.

"SOMEONE! ANYONE, PLEASE HELP!"

And as if on reflex the woman felt her muscles freeze up and her head snap up. Her ears automatically registering the voices and cries around her. Whatever thought she had vanished. The magic on her fingertips died and the time-mage grit her teeth. "Damn it! Damn it all!"

Ultear got up and ran in the direction of the scream.

~~ (O) ~~

His age was getting to him. "Quick! This way!" Macao yelled, knocking down another dragon offspring. His long-time partner Wakaba and son Romeo nodded and darted into the path the flame mage just cleared out.

It was a bitter fact he was beginning to hate more and more with each passing second. His reflexes were duller. He wasn't as strong or as fast or as durable as he used to be. But hell would freeze over before he'd let that stop him from protecting his family. Both blood and Fairy Tail related.

Running after the other two into the narrow ally, the flame-mage panted heavily, pushing himself to catch up. They needed to find temporary shelter again. And they needed it now. These monsters were ferocious and they were running out of magical power faster than they should have.

"Come on, dad!" the thirteen-year-old yelled over his shoulder, aware of his father falling behind.

"Eyes forward Romeo!" the older mage barked, worry making his voice severe and harsh. "Don't get dis-" the words died on his lips and his eyes widened.

Way above them, upfront, three small dragons crawled on the collapsed structures looking down at them.

_Shit!_ "Watch out!" He yelled just as the dragons opened their mouths and attacked. Explosions shook the narrow alleyway, the laser beams raising a thick veil of dust and smoke with each impact until nothing could be seen anymore.

They stilled in their assault, leaning forward curiously to examine the outcome of their attack. The heavy gray cloud obscured their view. Suddenly multiple smoke like hands darted out of the screen at them. The make-shift palms curled into fists, circling and assaulting the creatures that screeched in anger.

Down bellow them, the dust started to settle down and Wakaba stood in the middle of the wrecked little path holding his cigar with a vicious sneer. "Smoke crush," he said, the magic circle near him disappearing into thin air.

Macao and Romeo were pressed flushed against a wall on one side, the older man's hand protectively keeping the boy behind him. "Now!" he shouted and they all ran for it while the dragons were distracted. However the distraction was short-lived when the creatures started shooting beams in all directions, trying to bring down the magic created smoke-like limbs that whirled around them.

The trio raced through the alley, dodging debris and chunks of the crumbling walls, the exit growing nearer. And as the climax of their mad dash, the already weak structures started collapsing in on themselves, dragging the raging baby dragons with them. The group leaped, escaping getting crushed by a hair.

"Damn it haah," Wakaba panted, slowly pushing himself to his knees, "It sucks getting old haah..."

The temporary guild master nodded slowly in confirmation. "Sure does," swallowing a lungful of air he looked at the younger Conbolt who was fighting for a breath himself. "Are you alright?"

The thirteen-year-old met his father's eyes and nodded, too winded to speak yet.

"Okay," the senior mage said, getting to his feet, "Come on, get up. We need to move quickly." He took the boy by his arm, helping him to his feet when he heard the sound of rocks shifting.

"Macao-!" Wakaba shouted at the exact moment the mage saw a dragon dig its way out of the debris and jump at him. Reacting on instinct, he spun around and used all the strength he could muster to shove the boy in Wakaba's direction. Romeo stumbled into the smoke-mage's arms as the creature tackled his father.

Falling on his back, the dragon pinned him to the ground, its weight making his ribs crack. It opened its jaw, fully intent of biting his head off when Macao grabbed it with both his hands, holding it back with everything he had.

"Arrghh!" he screamed in the pain when the stronger creature keep pushing closer despite his attempts of keeping it away. "You-! Urgh! _PieceOfShit!_" he screamed, summoning up the purple flames in his hands. The creature lifted itself up screeching in blind agony with burnt mouth. Macao used that opportunity to push it away with his leg as much as he could, which in retrospect wasn't far.

"Dad!" "Macao!" The other two yelled, ready to jump in to help, when Macao saw the other two dragons dig themselves out of the collapsed buildings and shriek in rage.

His black eyes widened in panic. _No, no, no-! Shit-!_

The mage clawed at the ground, attempting to get away and to his feet when the dragon that tackled him caught him by the leg and dragged him back, biting deep until his bone cracked and Macao screamed from the top of his lungs- **"RUN!"**

Romeo's hands trembled in panic. The thirteen-year-old watched in horror as two more dragons slithered up from the rubble to his father who kept trying to fight back. "Leave me! Wakaba, take care of Romeo!" he shouted, one of the monsters sinking its claw into his back, keeping him down.

His son stared at him in dread, while his partner watched on in utter disbelief and betrayal. "ARGHHH! **GO DAMN IT!**" he screamed when one of the creature sunk its talons into his shoulder.

His scream snapped Romeo out of his frozen state and threw him into a frenzy. "No! STOP!" the boy shrieked, summoning his own magic power and ready to dive in head first, when strong arms grabbed hold of him.

The boy gasped when the smoke-mage pulled him in the opposite direction.

"Wakaba! No!" he yelled in protest, fully intent on saving his dad no matter what. But as soon as he slipped out of mage's grasp, Wakaba strengthened his grip, threw him over his shoulder and ran, his eyes burning and heart heavy. "_STOP!" _the boy trashed in his hold, weeping and screaming at the top of his lungs, "_LetMeGo!_ We gotta help him! We gotta- _Wakaba! _My dad-! You _can't-! _**Let me go!** _**LETMEGONOW!**_ Dad! **DAD!**"

Macao lips trembled in agony, watching his best friend take his son further and further away, while Romeo screamed in betrayal. He clenched his eyes shut, they stung at the though of his son screaming and crying. His _son_. His Romeo who had just started smiling again after seven years of _nothing_. The mage's heart clenched in hurt no physical injury could compare to. And that spiked a primal rage within him, when the dragon lowered its head to him again huffing into his ear like it was laughing and-

And that just pissed **the hell** out of him.

"You- _**Fucker!**_" he shrieked out, stuffing his full flaming fist into the creature's mouth and making the flame bigger. The beast roared in pain, stumbling back and off of him. The other two dragons growled and opened their mouths ready to attack. Macao rolled out of the way of their beams and just as he was about to try and get up, one of them grabbed him by his broken leg with its tail and smashed him back-first into a wall.

The hit left him in a daze, breathless and vision blurring. Sliding down the wall Macao fought to breathe in, but all he managed to do was choke and cough out blood. He was vaguely aware of the creature lifting him up with its tail and staring him right in the face. The dragon opened its mouth by the time his vision stopped swimming and he saw particles of power shimmering and melding in its mouth into a sphere of light that was going to kill him.

His ears were muted, and yet they hurt from the sound of his own loud heartbeat and the distant echo of his little boy.

_His little boy..._

His eyes watered as the sphere stopped growing. His lungs wavered with what's going to be his last breath and Macao prayed that-

**BANG!**

The creatures head flew off. A mist of red spraying his face as he fell with a gasp to the ground. Macao chocked on air, his adrenaline wearing off and the sound of a familiar shotgun being reloaded echoing in his ears.

"Who's next you** fuckers?!**"

Eyes wide in disbelief, the mage followed in the direction of the female voice. There, on top of a pile of rubble, he made out two western-clad figures of a very angry Alzak and Bisca, shotgun in hands and seething in rage.

"I trust you won't miss," Alzak said in controlled anger and stepped next to his wife, loading bullets into his revolver.

Narrowing her purple eyes in an unforgivable manner, Bisca grit out. "They're as good as** dead**."

Her husband didn't doubt that exclamation for a second. Nodding, he spun the barrels on the guns closed and pulled the safety back with a frightening _click_.

The dragon offspings were about to learn that there was nothing more was nothing more terrifying than angry parents of Fairy Tail.

The married gun duo jumped into action.

~~ ( O ) ~~

_This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening._

"C-Come on, Droy!" Jet urged his friend, trying to keep his voice from shaking, "You gotta get up! I-I can't carry you! Get up! Come on!"

The obese man lay on his back, nostrils flaring with short shallow breaths he struggled to draw in, "...-c-can't... " Droy chocked, his chest rising and falling too fast, "...h-h-hurtz... ca-can't..."

"What?! What Droy?! What hurts?!" Jet asked almost hysteric. Droy just collapsed out of nowhere and there was no wound or visible injury which meant that something was seriously, seriously, wrong with him and Jet didn't know what to do. "Come on! Tell me!" he all but shook his partner.

The plant-mage hacked, his face twisting in pain as he did so. "Ha-... ca-... can't-" and then his eyes widened for the briefest of moments before his whole body relaxed and threw Jet into panic. "Droy?! DROY!" he yelled, slapping his cheek and raising his voice more and more, "Open your eyes! Come on! DROY! DROY!"

When his eyes fell shut, so did all of Jet's awareness. Every semblance of control he had left shattered and he called out in desperation.

"SOMEONE!" He tugged at the other's still body, trying with all he had to lift it. "ANYONE, PLEASE HELP!" He fell back onto his knees, Droy's weight too much for him. He couldn't move him at all. He couldn't get him to safety. He couldn't do anything! He couldn't do anything but kneel in the middle of a war-zone with his best friend dying in his arms.

"Please anyone..." he hiccuped, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks, "He's not... Droy's-"

"DROY'S NOT BREATHING!" he wailed to the sky, "HE'S NOT BREATHING!" Heartache and helplessness pushed him into a state of desperation he wasn't ready to face again. His hands twisted into Droy's short-sleeved jacket. He couldn't- He just couldn't lose any more friends. Not again.

His ears accidentally picked up on a low shifting sound. Wide-eyed he looked up, holding his breath in hope of someone having heard his plight. And someone did.

His heart dropped. _No_

A dragon hatchling was poised on all fours in from him.

_No, no no no no-_ "O-Oh God," he swallowed thickly, instinct telling him to run, but loyalty grounding him to his spot. With trembling hands he reached for the nearest rock he could, aware of how utterly pointless it would be. But he was desperate and incapable of rational thinking at this point. He had almost no magic left, Droy was dying (if not dead already) and Jet _was not _going to leave him behind.

"Get away!" he threw the rock, using speed-magic to enhance his throw in hopes of dealing _some_ damage. The creature however moved, so the rock only grazed it and made the dragon shriek in anger. "Shit-!" Jet bit out. The creature ran at him. It jumped, talons and claws ready. The mage closed his eyes on reflex, waiting for the pain when-

"Infinite Sphere!"

There was suddenly a howl, and Jet opened his eyes to the creature being brutally assaulted mid air from all sides by lacrima-like spheres.

"W-Wha...?" he stared wide-eyed in astonishment, not quite grasping what was happening but damn glad it was anyway. The attacks suddenly stopped and the dragon fell to the ground with a 'thud' revealing a curvy figure with long dark hair.

She jogged over to him, a calm but battle-ready expression on her face and Jet recognized her as a member of that Crime Sociere guild. There was a flash of recognition in her eyes when she reached him. "You're from Fairy Tail," she mumbled, but before he could utter a word, she spoke again, "Are you alright?"

"D- Droy...-" was all he managed to croak out and she blinked, finally taking notice of the obese mage lying beside him. Ultear bit her lip, not knowing what to say and torn between being gentle (which was not her strong suit) with the man who just lost his friend and being brutally honest with him in her current snappish self. She decided both. Steeling herself, she exhaled, "I'm sorry about your friend, but we need to leave. Now. We can't stay here when-"

"No!" he cut her off, appalled that she would even suggest that. "I'm not gonna leave him! He's-"

Some part of her knew this was coming and while she admired that fierce loyalty of the Fairies now it just pissed her off! She was about to cut him off and tell him that _his friend_ was **dead** and that if they didn't move they were going to be next! But as she opened her mouth to tell him off she saw something and frowned. "What happened to him?" she mumbled out.

Jet blinked, not comprehending the reason behind the sudden change in her expression.

"I asked what happened to him?!" she snapped, rushing over and kneeling at Droy's side, her eyes glued to something. Following her line of sight, he stared down at Droy's slightly blue face and he could feel a lump in his throat. "Hey!" she barked out, getting his attention.

"I-I don't know! I don't know!" he rushed out, "We were running and- and then he just _collapsed_ and started wheezing and then he stopped breathing all together!"

"Was he hit in the chest?" she asked, looking the victim over and checking his pulse.

Jet stuttered, not used to this kind of rush coupled in with panic and fear. "Um- I..- He...- What I mean is-"

"Was he hit in the chest?! Yes or no?!" Ultear shouted, not having the time nor patience for bullshit.

"Y-Yes!" the speed-mage said, recalling the last batch of dragons they fought where one hit Droy across his chest with its tail so hard that the obese mage took down the wall he was knocked back into.

"His lung collapsed," the woman concluded with a nod, taking off her gloves, "We need to get the fluid out of his lungs quickly. Rip his shirt open."

"W-What?" he looked up at her.

"Just do it before he dies!"

Striking a cord within him, Ultear felt slightly relieved when Jet quickly grabbed the material of his friend's shirt and pulled at the fabric until it teared up. In the meantime, she took a deep breath to center herself and then calmly whispered, "Ice-make."

A thin medical instrument slowly materialized inside her hand. A shot.

Baffled, Jet stared at the ice-created object."What the- How did you-"

"Shut up," she cut him off, gingerly touching the right side of Droy's chest. Within a moment, she frowned, exhaled and plunged the needle into the man's chest. The speed-mage flinched at the sight. Biting her lip, Ultear pulled the end of the make-shift vaccine and the surge started to fill itself with a see-through yellowish liquid. Jet gaped at her, holding his breath, his hope and his friend's life literally in her hands.

A moment later, Ultear pulled out the needle and stared intensely into Droy's face. "Shit!" she spat throwing away the instrument.

"What?! What's wrong?!" the speed-mage yelped, not sure how much longer he could stand being on edge like this. Without explaining Ultear tilted the man's head back, pinched his nose closed and pressed her mouth to his. Ignoring the way the other mage stuttered and reeled back in shock, the woman continued to try and pump air into the others lungs. She was too caught up in trying to save this man's life to explain anything or even take notice of the slow pelts of rain dropping from the sky.

_Come on, breathe!_ She urged inside her head, repeating the whole process of resuscitation, this time without applying chest compression as to not damage his lungs further. _Please! Breathe! Come on!_

Pressing her mouth to his, she blew and suddenly the body beneath her flinched. Ultear pulled back and the plant mage gasped for air. A series of chocking sounds and heaves followed, before his breathing steadied.

"Droy! Droy!" the speed-mage exclaimed happily, already getting into his friend's space.

"...H- … Hey..." the obese man smiled weakly, not quite himself yet. "Wha... What's goin' on?"

Ultear was in the process of wiping her mouth with her hand, a light scowl on her face when something suddenly exploded way behind them. Spinning around and spotting a large cloud of smoke rising from the ground, the time-mage dusted off her knees and stood up. "Come on, we gotta go. Grab one of his hands."

Jet gave a quick nod, smiling as the woman bent down to take Droy's other arm.

~~ ( O ) ~~

There was dust everywhere.

In his eyes, ears, nose, mouth, hair,_ everywhere_. The cloud was so thick that he was having trouble breathing. It trapped him in a bubble of obscurity, hiding the crumbling walls of the Eclipse Gate and the destruction all around him.

But it could not hide the collapsed man in front of him. Body aglow, future Rogue stared at his transparent hand.

Natsu Dragneel straightened up. Shoulders firm and gaze steady, he spoke with a type of confidence only his heart possessed. "The Rogue I know... won't turn into _you_."

Looking up, the corrupt mage saw only shades of gray, blurring and mixing in with dark stormy clouds. The weight of his failure was heavy as the words he never planned on letting out. "Shadows," he croaked and the Salamander's ears picked up on that little broken note hiding in his voice.

"The shadows... They're trying to consume me," he confessed and Natsu's eyes only widened the more words left his mouth, "They've come for me... Time and time again. The darkness within me... is _permanent_."

Droplets of water started falling from the sky steadily and Rogue felt a sickly satisfaction that didn't show on his face once he caught the Salamander's expression. Shocked and childish in its denial. The mage licked his lips, "And the day I lost Frosch... I became one... with the shadows."

Natsu frowned, not liking his explanation or excuse, whichever it was. "Frosch won't die."

But the shadow user knew better. The Salamander was naive thinking he could stop death everywhere he wished to. Life didn't work like that no matter how successful he had been in protecting his friends so far. He was a fool. A goddamn idiot. So he had no idea what possessed him to utter the next words.

"In one year's time... make sure to tell me," Rogue swallowed thickly, blinking away the pelts of rain from his eyes as he slowly faded away, "To protect Frosch... in a year's time."

"Or Frosch," he met Natsu's wide eyes and he hoped that the intensity of his words reached the pink haired youth. Natsu's gasped in shock as Rogue disappeared. "..._will be killed_."

The dragonslayer stood still, the body in front of him vanishing with the rest of the misplaced creatures in time. Rogue's words ran through his head and sent an unwanted chill down his spine. The dust around him had started to settle. The rain however didn't let up, but nor did it increase. He never picked up on that fact as two skinny arms wrapped around him from behind and tightly held on.

"Is something wrong Lucy?" he asked, feeling a slight dampness where she pressed her face to his back.

"No," she mumbled weakly, squeezing him ever so slightly, "Not really... Just... Thank you."

~~ ( O ) ~~

The dragon hatchlings disappeared in a yellowish glow and suddenly there was silence.

It was over.

And while most mages couldn't figure out exactly why or how had it all just stopped, they were glad it did. Everyone involved in protecting Crocus and defeating the dragons was exhausted and injured. Despite the light drizzle, the guilds started gathering at the nearby wrecked square. Members and non-members alike helped each other up, treated and healed injures not only of their own guilds but also of people who where their enemies not too long ago during the Grand Magic Games.

It brought a smile to Natsu and Lucy's face when they stumbled upon it.

Among the bustling crowd of people, they recognized the glow of Wendy's light blue healing magic along with the familiar shapes of Alzak, Bisca, Wakaba, Macao and Romeo.

"That should do it," the thirteen-year-old dragonslayer stepped back inspecting her work on the flame-mage's shoulder as he sat on one of the few stone benches that were left undamaged, "I'm sorry I can't do more than this, Macao-san."

"No, you did more than enough," the mage offered a kind smile, flexing his shoulder with the slightest wince, "Thank you, Wendy."

She replied with her own smile, "Once I recharge my magic power I'll try doing a better job on your leg."

"Don't worry about me," Macao shook his head and ruffled the girl's hair, "I'm old and stubborn. These wounds don't bother me at all. Besides you must be tired healing everyone."

"I'm fine," she said, blushing in her usual shy way, "Besides, I want to help as much as I can. It's better not to leave your wound untreated Macao-san. Isn't that right, Romeo-kun?" She turned to boy behind her and the smile she had dropped from her face at the sight of the boy's clenched fists and hard expression.

Noticing the same thing the young dragonslayer had, Macao felt a lump form in his throat. The glare aimed at him from his son made him swallow hard. Taking a deep breath and deciding it was time to face the music, the senior mage started, "Romeo, I-" and then he got punched in the face.

"ARGH! What the h-?!"

"-_You,_" the boy grit out with such conviction it left his father staring at him in utter shock while he kept shaking in rage.

"-You. _**Stupid!**_ Old. BASTARD!" Romeo swung his fist again, hitting him in the chest, "WHAT were you THINKING?! You _**idiot!**_ "

Macao winced at the second punch, he opened his mouth to retaliate when Romeo was suddenly pulled away from him by a very concerned Alzak. "Whoa there kid-"

"You _stupid_ old **idiot!**" Romeo however continued screaming at his dad, fighting against another stronger grip only for different reasons now. It only added to his frustration. "How could _you-?!_ HOW COULD YOU?! ARGH! Let me go! _Letmego_ NOW so I can** punch him** again! Arrghhh!"

Everyone was silent as the thirteen-year-old heaved, out of breath. Felling the boy's muscles unwinding, Alzak released his hands. Head hung low and feeling so many gazes on him, Romeo hissed out once he caught his breath. "Never again," he looked up straight into his father's wide and hurt eyes. "Do you hear me? _**Never!**_ You IDIOT OF A FATHER! You-! You-!" the boy hiccuped, his anger finally giving way to what was hiding behind it all along. No longer knowing how to hold back the flood of tears pushing at the back of his eyes the boy chocked., "H-How co-could you da-ad...-"

Feeling his own eyes welling up, Macao gently pulled his weeping son into his arms and held onto him. "I'm sorry, Romeo," he mumbled into the boy's hair lovingly, tightening his grip as he did so, "I'm so sorry."

Bisca, Alzak, Wakaba and Wendy smiled at the two Conbolts. The youngest of them wiped a stray tear on her face, relieved and happy for the father and son.

Pulling apart, the flame-mage grinned at red-eyed boy with mucus running down his nose. "Come on now, stop crying," he urged teasingly, wiping the boy's tear-stained cheek. Romeo however continued to cry and hiccup, "S-Shut up-! _hic_... Yo-ou're crying too...!"

Macao only grinned wider. "Oi, oi, this kid."

"Come on," Bisca came up from behind him and placed her hand gently on Romeo's shoulder, smiling comfortingly. "Let's give your pops some space, ne? He's still pretty beat up."

The next thing she knew the boy had his hands wrapped around her waist, face buried into deep her stomach. "T-Tha-ank you," the squeaked out, shoulders still shaking "Thank you Bisca... Thank you so much..."

It didn't take long for the surprise on her face to melting into a warm smile. "Anytime sweety," she said with a light laugh, hugging him back, "Anytime."

Not being able to keep his own wide smile off of his face, Macao watched as Bisca, Alzak and Wendy proceeded to comfort and smile at Romeo.

And then he got hit on the head again.

"Ouch! The hell-" Macao looked up at the man by his side, but stopped mid-sentence.

Wakaba wore a blank expression, smoking his cigar and staring at the happy display in front of them. The flame-mage gazed up at him in silence, trying to decipher the emotions swirling in his partner's eyes. After a few seconds of waiting, the smoke-mage took out his cigar and exhaled the nicotine through his nose. "Don't you dare make me do something like that again," he said calmly, not looking at him. "Or I swear to God Macao you won't have to worry only about your kid beating the living shit out of you. Got it?"

Blinking, a hearty laugh escaped the flame-mage at the threat. Macao shook his head once he stopped chuckling. "Sorry friend, but I don't think I can promise that," a small pause, "But I'll try."

Wakaba only blew his cigar again, giving a distant 'hmmmm'.

"Thank you."

The smoke-mage nodded, before muttering something about 'a goddamn idiot'.

Natsu sighed in relief and closed his eyes, his dragon-hearing picking up on similar conversations all around him.

_We're okay. _

_Ha, we sure showed them! _

_I'm glad you're didn't get hurt. _

_I've always got your back, don't worry. _

_Don't cry, we're all here. _

_Hey, we're nakama after all._

_Like hell I'd abandon you._

_Thank you for staying alive._

So many emotions and voices filled his ears. And each one brought a smile to his face. The cold chill of Rogue's words was cast off with the warmth between all these people. Friends, rivals, guildmates, family, lovers, comrades and teammates.

Silently the dragonslayer vowed that this, which makes them strong, which makes them united, which keeps them human and kindhearted,_ this_\- he would preserve with everything he had. He wouldn't let the thing that happened to future Rogue happen to anyone. Not if he could help it.

"Lucy! Natsu!"

The duo looked in unison in the direction of the voice. Mira jogged up to them, a radiant smile on her face like always.

"Mira!" Lucy greeted her with a smile of her own, "Is everyone okay?"

"Mhm," the takeover-mage nodded, "Everyone is fine. Well... Everyone except _Laxus_ that is," she chuckled rather amused for some reason.

Frowning, both Natsu and the stellar mage glanced in the direction of the blond dragonslayer who, apart being covered from head to toe in some transparent substance, looked physically relatively fine. The Thundergod tribe fussed over him like they usually did, crying and trying to pamper him, and Laxus looked about ready to murder everyone around him.

"What happened to him?" Natsu muttered, which earned him another sinisterly innocent smile from Mira.

"He got eaten by Zirconis while protecting Wendy," she happily answered which earned her a unanimous 'WHAT?!' by the duo. "And then he got spit out on the charges of being a '_vile tasting human male_'."

It took a moment before they both burst out laughing, Lucy at least trying to compose herself unlike her dragonslayer partner.

"O-Oh God! Hahahaha!" Natus wiped a stray tear from his eye, "I'm sooo gonna hang that over his head." And judging by Mira's grin, Natsu wasn't the only one.

"OI! Out of the way! We need a free bench over here!"

All heads turned in the direction of the familiar voice.

People moved to the sides to make room and three stumbling figures came into view. A man and a woman slowly, with shaky legs, supported a massive and round man. They soon recognized them as Jet, Droy, and much to everyone's surprise- Ultear.

Once reaching the benches near a wide broken fountain, the two exhausted mages dropped Droy and maneuvered him with some assistance from people nearby into a lying position.

"Wendy!" the speed-mage called out, catching a glimpse of the young girl who immediately rushed over with a serious expression. Ultear wiped at her brow, cursing the mage named Droy for being so inhumanly heavy.

"What happened to him?" Wendy inquired, already summoning what little magic she had left for healing.

"Collapsed lung," the time-mage explained, still trying to catch her breath, "He's out of immediate danger, but he might be in trouble later if its not taken care of now."

Nodding to the older woman, the little girl already set about doing her work. Sighing, Ultear rubbed her aching arms. Looking over the whole situation, she concluded that the obese mage was out of danger and thus marked her work done here. Nodding to herself, Ultear turned to leave-

-only to feel meaty fingers wrap around her wrist, tugging her gently.

Turning around she was met with a grateful expression. "Thank you", Droy said as gently as his grip on her wrist. She only stared at him with a surprised face. All the people around them suddenly looking at her.

"Let go," she said sharply, escaping his hand and turning her back in hopes of hiding the blush creeping up her cheeks. "And go on a freaking diet," she hissed over her shoulders while walking away.

Quickly moving from his friend's side, Jet stepped forth and bowed down. "Thank you!" he yelled, making Ultear freeze in embarrassment, "Thank you very much! I'll never forget this."

"Oh for the love of-" she muttered under her breath, feeling her ears heat up from all the looks she was receiving. Quickening her pace, the time-mage felt her lips gently quirk into a smile of their own accord.

Despite the discomfort crawling along her skin, Ultear... felt good. Until she realized that a pink-haired mage was standing in front of her, grinning like an idiot.

Turning her expression into an irritated one, but unable to will down the blood in her cheeks, she challenged him. "_What?_"

Natsu's grin only got wider as he linked his hands behind his head. "Nothing," he said cheekily.

Her glare intensified, but she quickly let it go with in favor of guiding the Salemander's attention elsewhere. "Have you seen Meredy?"

Natsu blinked a few times before scratching his head. "The pinkhead? Dunno. She's probably around here somewhere."

About to point out that he also had pink hair, Lucy suddenly pipped in, pointing down the street. "There she is!"

Following in the direction of her finger, true to her words, slowly tracking up the wrecked cobblestone street to Crocus' square, Meredy walked next to Lamia Scale's ice-mage Lyon Vastia. And closer as they got, the more Lucy, Natsu and Ultear frowned in confusion.

In the ice-mage's arms was an unconscious and battered Juvia. Meredy walked a step just behind him, her head bowed and rubbing at her eyes occasionally. Lyon's expression was stiff, his eyes slightly swollen and red and aimed at something he obviously wasn't really seeing.

The moment Ultear met Meredy's tearful eyes, and Lyon's gaze landed on Natsu and Lucy's, suddenly they all remembered the fact that it was raining. A sinking feeling spread through their stomachs.

"Where's Gray?"

* * *

**This is how our story and alternate timeline begin. **

**With Ultear once more trying her hand at redemption in the way she had up to now and not using The Last Aegis. Which ultimately resulted in what you have just read. **

**I am very aware of ALL the casualties and characters in dire situations during the battle against the baby dragons, but let's face it there's too many of them to write. Long story short: everyone survived... except one person. (It's not a spoiler if it obvious! You damn well know why you choose to read this story in the first place!)**

**Writing Macao's scenes made me tear up. Go Bisca and Alzak! They were so fun to write! Shame I don't have any bigger plans in stored for them for this particular story.**

**Anyway I hope I managed to get the spirit of Fairy Tail and the feels down right. It's my first time trying my hand at this fandom, so who knows what I may end up doing. **

**Please share all your wonderful opinions on favorite parts, characters, sentences or whatever in the review section!**

**Until the next update,**

**xMF**


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow, I got a much bigger response to this than I honestly expected. Teeeeheeeee I'm so happy Cx In return I hope this chapter makes you happy too! …... Okay it probably won't, but you know what I mean. Right? **

**Anyway, get ready for a long read that will either make you hate or love me for it.**

**'Thank you's to:** Rewinsan, AsDarknessSpreads, Casseg, Guest, Anana16, PlutoGenesis, MiniMcGiggles, harugloryreifon, LadyGlitchy, Lilymoon9, Musica Masaharu, Cake-Addict, Sasuke vs. Itachi, darkangel1992, frozen-in-wonderland, Icarus Ascendant, IcePrinceRay, JcL107, nukbert, sktrgrl13, XarksTheHunter. **You guys are awesome. ;A;**

**And with that said, enjoy!**

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather;

* * *

**Chapter 3**

He honestly didn't remember how exactly he had been knocked out, but that didn't really matter. The first thing that tuned him back into reality was a scream. One far too familiar, and far too raw and desperate not to get under his skin and make his instincts kick in.

He rolled to his knees. And with his eyesight still blurry and shapes not making sense, Gray got to his feet. Unsteady as he was, he stumbled forward, blindly following the sounds of battle. Upon reaching the torn wall of the house he was in, the mage willed his head to clear up faster. Time was of the essence. And how he hated being late to do or prevent something if he could. But the moment he stepped outside, Gray stopped dead in his tracks.

"JUVIA-!"

"_**WATER SLICER!**_"

"-JUVIA STOP!"

He watched wide-eyed as the said water blades impaled the battered dragon hybrid, knocking it into a wall and then outright cutting throughout the whole house entirely. The structure collapsed in on itself fast before his very eyes.

"... What the f- Whoa!" he stumbled back when a wave of steaming water darted right pass him at a frightening speed. Following the body with his eyes, the alchemist was shocked still upon recognizing the outraged face reflecting in its surface. "Juvia?"

With her body in Sierra mode, vapor came off of her in fast angry wisps. Juvia released a piercing shriek and threw her arms together. _**"WATER CYCLONE!"**_

The magic circle that appeared released a torrent of water with such power that it had Gray reeling back in shock. One creature after the other, the blast threw them back, slamming and breaking down everything that wasn't solid enough to withstand her attack. "O-Oi," he stammered, opened-mouthed and stricken.

"Damn it! JUVIA!" a familiar voice called out, drawing his attention elsewhere. Lyon was fighting with Meredy by his side, both surrounded by dragons and desperately trying to fight their way out. "JUVIA!" Lyon yelled after her again, using every free second he had in between attacks to try and gain her attention. "STOP! You're going to-! **Damn it!**Ice-make: Eagle!"

The mage's frenzied words triggered Gray to finally jump into action. She was releasing her attacks and magic so fast and in such massive proportions it reminded him of a mad water deity described in mythology books. He could feel her magic power going haywire. Scattering everywhere so violently and quickly without any control that there was no way it wouldn't leave consequences on her.

"Juvia!" he called out, running towards her.

She payed him no heed. She was too busy razing everything to the ground and raining Armageddon on anything that came between her and the dragons. She jerked her hands upwards and trapped a whole pack of them in her Water Lock before curling her hands closed and making the bubble tighter and tighter.

"JUVIA!" he tried again, louder. Still nothing!

She was so far gone in her whirlwind of hatred. She was savagely attacking and hissing out incomprehensible words and syllables, and for the love of God, Gray had no idea what to do or say to calm her down and that scared the living shit out of him! He knew that Juvia could get violent in battle, but _this_ violent? This was an abnormally huge leap from her usual emotional outbursts and Gray was too terrified to even _think _about what could have set her off to this stage.

The hatchlings wiggled in vain in their prison. Their attempts quickly changed from fighting their way out to _desperately_ shooting beams in every direction to destroy it. And even though the said creatures were their enemies who wanted to either kill or eat them, the very sight of them, clawing at each other, at _nothing_ and **everything**, mutely screeching and fighting for air while Juvia boiled them alive was_ fucking sick!_

"**JUVIA!**" Gray hollered at the top of his lungs, hysterical now, "_**JUVIA!**_ WHAT THE HELL WOMAN?! HAVE YOU GONE MENTAL?! _**JUVIA!**_"

He was unheard, and the more he remained so, the more terrified he became. Just how far gone was she?! "JUVIA!" he tried once more, placing his hands in his signature stance and hoping for something he knew wasn't about to happen.

The magical pressure around her was suffocating. Steam was coming off of her water-body in blinding amounts and Gray didn't know if Juvia couldn't feel it because of the adrenaline, or just outright didn't care that her own magic was _literally_ killing her.

"Goddamn it!" He needed to stop her. NOW! "Ice-make!"

He opened his palms, faced them towards her-

And _nothing_ happened.

This... did not register in his head. He frowned for a millisecond, before the urgency of the situation had him trying again. "ICE-MAKE!" he slammed his fist back into his palm only to end up with the same outcome. And that had him stiffening in shock.

_WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON?!_

His mind was going a hundred miles per second.

Why wasn't anything happening? Why wasn't it freezing?! Was it because the water was too hot? Definitely not. He was barely feeling any heat coming off of it! Besides, he had frozen boiling water in the past! Was it a new type of magic? Nope, it felt the same. Then why wasn't it working?! He was running out of time! She was getting more and more out of control! She was gonna-! "-LYON!" he spun around, screaming. "_**LYON!**_ GET OVER HERE _NOW!_"

The mage in question was still fighting off of the close-knitted circle of hatchlings.

Gray grid his teeth and repeated his stance over and over. "Come on! _Come __ON__!_ Ice-make! Urgh- Come. On! WORK DAMMIT! _URGH!_ _**LYON!**_"

Juvia suddenly shattered her Water Lock, throwing around the dead hybrids everywhere and let out a painful growl. She grabbed her head, swaying left and right unsteadily, the water that made up her body furiously bubbling.

The overuse of her magic was catching up to her. But she wasn't done. Oh no. She. Wasn't. Done!

There was an explosion somewhere in the distance. And in sync with it, Juvia screamed again throwing her head back. Her Sierra form grew and jets of water burst out of every fountain, tap and sewer opening in the vicinity. She was preparing for another attack on the hatchlings, and drew every ounce of power she could muster up. And Gray couldn't do anything about it!

"Fuck!" He clenched his fists, preparing to jump head first, magic or no fucking magic, and bring her to her senses! When all of a sudden...

The dragons' bodies started to shine.

"What in the-" Gray glanced left and right, from one creature to another and watched as their bodies started breaking off into dusty particles. One by one, they were swiped in a yellowish glow, disappearing into thin air with no traces of them left, save for the destruction they had caused.

The ice mage blinked, looking around the void battlefield in confusion. And before Gray could gather his wits-

"Juvia! JUVIA STOP!" Lyon yelled, sprinting towards them. "THEY'RE GONE! THEY'RE ALL GONE!"

"**Fucking finally!**" Gray spun towards him angrily. _Took him long enough!_ "Quickly, freeze her! That's should sto-" he said as the said mage reached him and ran-

right

through

him.

… _what..._

"N-No!" Juvia grabbed her head, wailing, "I-I-I ca-an't-! _I won't-_ **I WON'T!** Gray- _Gray-sama..._ they... _How dare they-_ _**HowDAREThey?!**_"

_...no w-wait... how..._

Meredy watched with wide-stricken eyes as the sudden boost of power tore cracks in the cobble stone along the street. "Lyon!"

"I know!" Lamia Scale's mage dodged to the side right before the ground beneath him burst in a spray of boiling water.

_...O-Oi! ... h-hold on a minute here..._

Rolling to his feet, the white-haired mage placed his fist into the palm of his hand and after dodging another jet of water, summoned his magic. "ICE MAKE: TOWER!"

Thick ice crystallized along the street from the magic array at a frightening speed in Juvia's direction. It crawled along her water-body and froze it solid until she was covered whole. And then there was silence.

It was as if the world had suddenly gone deaf. Lyon and Meredy held their breaths and watched the frozen pillar anxiously.

Nothing moved. At least for a while.

Only when the first drop of rain fell down, did a chink appeared in the ice. And systematically it stretched along the whole surface, cracking quickly and loudly. Within seconds the top burst open. Chunks of ice scattered all around and released a single body that went limp and collapsed on the spot, falling off the make-shift tower.

Lyon was quick to react, already prepared to catch Juvia in his arms. Gray stood to the side, for the better lack of words, utterly speechless, while his senior cradled her body.

"... L-Lyon...?" Gray croaked out, disconcerted at the sight of the mage's eyes glazing over.

Lyon swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. He needed to keep it together. He needed to keep it together and help Juvia. But the myriad of words, _Gray died, no- how could he- he died, ohmygod he died and I couldn't __do anything__-_ were assaulting him like a storm and he- he didn't know how to fight it off! He was malfunctioning and Juvia needed help and Gray was dead, _Gray __was__**d**__**ea**__**d**_ and so would Juvia be if they didn't hurry. He needed to get the hell up and- and- "W-We," he chocked on his words before straightening up with a shaky breath, "W-We need to get her to Chelia-"

The silence he was met with made him look up. "...Meredy?"

The girl chewed on her lip. Distant, with her eyes locked onto the entrance of a single house among the whole wreckage. She trembled as one thought looped in her head over and over. _...How … How am I...?_

"Meredy!" She filched awake.

Lyon was looking at her with a brave face barely put together.. "...We have to go."

Tearing up, the girl hugged herself and glanced one last time behind her. She mutely nodded and hesitantly fell in step with the older mage, all the while thinking to herself- _… How...__ How am I going to tell Ul?_

~~ ( O ) ~~

Gray stood flabbergasted. "... Y-You... you guys...?" he muttered, too shocked and confused to run after the retreating figures who were literally deaf to everything he said.

He was left alone, clueless and with a buttload of questions. And his head was already a mess.

All these little bits and pieces were floating in his mind unanswered. Like how Juvia's water didn't scorch him? Why his magic wasn't working when he could still feel its presence? Lyon passing through him?

He shuddered at the reminder, pressing his hand to his bare chest on reflex. That one was gonna give him nightmares. And then he blinked. _Wait a minute... _

Gray looked down to his bare torso and dumbfounded touched along his skin there. W-Where...?

Where were his bandages? His wounds? The scrapes and bruises from the tournament? He had like a gazillion cuts of all shapes and sizes, enough to kill him ten times over! So how the hell-

And in a moment something clicked in his brain.

All the questions from before... concerning his magic, Juvia's erratic behavior, Lyon passing through him, his missing wounds and the lack of pain, why the rain was gently thrumming all around him but he felt none of it? Suddenly, there was an answer to it all.

Appalled and put off, he slowly looked up and he felt his stomach drop at the realization that the house Meredy was staring at earlier... was the very _same one_ he crawled out of when he had woken up.

_No- No way..._

Gray gulped.

~~ ( O ) ~~

Erza Scarlet was no stranger to pain. Therefore she was no stranger on how to deal with it.

_Walk it off _was, in a way, her personal motto. Brave the pain and beat it. Push your own limits and come on top.

The last battle of the Grand Magic Games had left her with more than a handful of bruises and sore-spots. In fact, Erza couldn't honestly remember a time when she was this beat up. And she'd walk it off- oh, she would! … if she had it in her to walk at all.

"Hold on," said Jellal, readjusting his hold on her, "We're almost there."

"Khmm, r-right," she cleared her throat, her face going beet-red, and pointedly looked away from him, trying to ignore the way his hand tightened around her waist.

They cautiously walked along the demolished side-streets in the direction of the single lit up square. Or more like, Jellal walked and dragged Erza's uncooperative body with him. It were situations like these the Equip mage always wished to avoid: depending on a person to fully support her weight because she was in no state to do it herself. It went against everything she trained herself to be.

Her few closest friends were exceptions though. Having gone through thick and thin, she learned just how much she could depend on them, which made her grow to love them even more. Despite that, it was still more than she'd allow herself. It was a difficult complex to forsake. And now being held by Jellal like this...?

"Is everything okay?"

_Crap_, Erza jolted and met his gaze with the most pathetic excuse for a poker-face. "Y-Yes, everything's fine."

Or at least it would be if she would just stop. freaking. blushing!

The way his eyes bore into hers didn't help. It only made her hyper aware of how close his face was to hers. If she didn't die of suffocation, because she was_ literally _holding her breath, then she would definitely die from all the blood rushing to her head.

Her mind was going a thousand miles per second when a single drop of water splattered against her nose.

"Huh?" she blinked, breaking the spell she was in, and looked up at the dreary clouds. Frowning, she muttered after a moment. "How odd..." She didn't remember it being this cloudy.

"What is it?" her companion asked, throwing a quick glance in the same direction.

Erza shook her head, discarding what ever thought was about to arise. "It's nothing... We should keep going."

Jellal responded with a nod and continued where he'd left off, navigating them through the maze of bulldozed streets and houses towards the square. It was a slow trip. The outlaw mage took great care in moving them at a pace that wouldn't deal the Fairy Tail's amazing Titania any more unnecessary pain. He'd done enough of that for a lifetime. A few streets and a corner later, the vast clearing of Crocus' square came in sight. And it had both Jellal and Erza stopping in their tracks.

The square was crowded despite the rain and the promise of a heavier shower soon. Mages from various guilds were scattered everywhere, separating into groups that would be easily spotted by their other members. Almost everyone was there: Lamia Scale, Mermaid Heel, Blue Pegasus, Sabertooth, Fairy Tail... And in between them a handful Royal Guards and Rune Knights going to and fro, helping and giving aid anywhere they could until the healers arrived.

Staring at soldiers handing out blankets and emergency medical supplies, somewhere deep within her soul, Erza felt a tinge of resentment towards them. It wasn't fair.

"I'll be fine," she suddenly said, pushing down her bitterness and not daring to look him in the eyes.

"You should go," Erza mumbled, unhooking her hand from his shoulders and steeling her legs. She could bare this. She could. Just like every other time their brief meetings were cut short, so suddenly after weeks and months of separation that always seemed to stretch into an eternity. It really, _really_ wasn't fair.

And there was nothing they could do about it.

Erza bit her lip, preparing herself to let go of him, again, when-

"No."

She blinked. Shocked to feel his hand taking hers and guiding it back around him. Jellal pulled up the hood of his cloak and then wrapped his other hand securely around her waist, pressing her back against him.

"J-Jellal-" she whispered, face ablaze again when he took the first few steps towards the crowd, "W-What are you doing? Are you out of your mind? What if they see you?"

"Don't worry, they won't," he said face and voice blank, "Nobody is going to pay attention after everything that happened."

Erza bit her lip nervously, glancing at the throng of people just in front of them, and sincerely hoped that he was right. Jellal trudged on with a brave face, silently praying to whichever God would listen to him for the exact same thing.

The muscles in his neck remained tense and antsy with each guard and knight they passed and vice versa. His eyes darted left and right, alert and anxious. His grip on the scarlet-haired girl remained painless and nervously firm, conveying to her more than anything he would ever verbally admit.

It took a while for the blue-haired mage to find a free place to set her down. But he never faltered in his step. Jellal continued through the crowd courageously until an empty spot on the stone fence of the giant fountain caught his eye. He lowered her down as gently as he could, before crouching down in front of her. "Are you okay?"

Erza gave a slight nod, meeting his eyes. "Yes, I'm fi-" Her eyes widened.

Noting her reaction, Jellal glanced over his shoulder, already suspecting what was happening. A single Royal Guard stared in their direction with a frown and then headed towards them.

"Don't move," she mouthed to him before straightening up. Jellal held his breath and hid his face, uneasy and tense beneath the cloak sheltering him. Erza evened her breathing and met the guard with a calm and collected face as he stopped right behind the wanted mage. "Can I help you?"

The guard held her gaze with one of his own, sizing her up just as she did him. He was young and therefore, Erza prayed, inexperienced enough for Jellal to easily escape. However, the moment the guard reached behind him and pulled out a blanket, Erza relaxed.

"Here," he said, holding it out to them. "Take it. Sorry, we're out of emergency kits at the moment."

Erza frowned at the apparent uneasiness he displayed as he eyed the layers and layers of bandages she had. Jellal, keeping his face hidden, reached out and took the blanket from the young man with a nod of thanks.

The guard returned the gesture. "A few teams of healers were dispatched from the civilian squad not too long ago to help out here. Their side had less casualties," he bit his lip, "We have you to thank for that."

Bowing his head, the guard turned and left the two staring after him. As soon as the man was out of ear-shot, they both sighed in relief. The synced action made them look at each other and chuckle heartily.

"You're crazy," she said smiling. He returned her brilliant smile with one of his own.

"It was worth it," he said, unfolding the blanked and throwing it over her head and shoulders, bundling her up. His face lingered near hers while he held the thick-cloth tight around her. And the moment he realized this, he pulled away, again feeling like he needed an excuse to be near her. "I don't want you to catch a cold."

"Of course," she smiled, _totally_ convinced. Had this been anyone else Erza would have brushed the said action aside and said she was fine, offering the blanket to some other poor soul. Jellal must have been the only person she spared of her independent, tough, leader persona, whether she was aware of it or not.

When he looked up at her again, smiling like that, so warmly and_ lovingly_, Jellal knew that the words he actually meant to say were not _It was worth it_, but rather _You're worth it_.

Worth all the running, the hiding, the apprehensive and exhausting life of a wanted man who had a lot to answer for.

_She's__ worth it,_ he took her hand into his and ran his thumb over her knuckles. It was all worth it, because beyond the ridicule of a criminal trying to amend himself, there she was. Waiting for him at the end of that dark scorn filled tunnel with open arms.

These short moments of peace they were allowed always helped him brave on. These little moments in which they could pretend he wasn't a wanted outlaw, fighting for redemption, and she wasn't his very reason for being what he was.

When she gently twisted her wrist to hold his hand and squeezed it, Jellal found the courage to speak. "Erza," she blinked, caught off guard, "I-I need to tell you-", she swallowed hard with her eyes growing wide as saucers.

If her heart didn't stop in this moment, it probably never would. He opened his mouth- "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?!"

They both froze.

It was disturbing how an atmosphere so serene and romantic could turn murderous so fast.

"That damn idiot-!" Erza growled through clenched teeth, searching for the loud troublemaking Salamander through the crowd with her eyes ablaze. She was going to kill him!

Jellal only gave a crooked smile, begrudgingly coming to terms with this failure.

"When I get up-!" the red-head swore, spotting the Dragon Slayer among the crowd, holding the Lamia Scale's ice-mage, Lyon Vastia, by his shirt.

"WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT ARE YOU SPROUTING?! HA?!" he roared, drawing more curious glances his way. This got Jellal worried, especially when he spotted Ultear and Meredy near him. _This isn't good_, he frowned, already resenting himself more when the next words left his lips.

"… I need to go," he met her eyes apologetically. Pressing her lips into a thin line, Erza nodded.

"Tell Natsu I wish to speak with him. _Immediately._"

Jellal let out a chuckle, feeling slightly vengeful as he got to his feet. "Will do. Until next time Erza," he smiled, nodding his head and within moments... disappeared.

The Equip mage sighed and hunched forward. Disappointment and tiredness slowly but surely getting to her.

"**NO!** NO WAY IN_ HELL _WOULD GRAY-"

Erza clenched her fists. God she was gonna make Natsu regret kicking up a fuss and starting a fight just when everyone wa- _**"**__**HE'S DEAD!**__**"**_

A jolt went up her spine and she looked up.

~~ ( O ) ~~

There were very few concepts the time mage had trouble grasping. This, somehow, was one of them.

"W-What do you mean by… he's _gone_?"

Three pairs of eyes anxiously rested on the white-haired mage who had his face downcast. Lyon drew in a shaky breath. Despite his bravado and desire to deliver these news as gently as possible with a calm face, the weight of their gazes was more overwhelming than he thought.

"I mean," he licked his lips, his voice thinning into a scratchy whisper. "I mean… he didn't make it."

What he was saying was obvious. At least it should have been. But it was as if these words were spoken in an alien language to Ultear. She said nothing and continued to stare at the Maker mage who avoided their eyes. She was vaguely aware of Meredy looking at her from the corner of her puffy eyes, biting her lips raw.

"… what did you say…?"

The hissed out words had them tensing up.

"Natsu-!" Lucy reached out- too late. The boy already had his fist tangled in the material of Lyon's shirt.

"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU SAY?!" he screamed into his face, uncaring of the fact that the ice-mage was holding their unconscious guildmate.

"Natsu stop-" she tried again only to be ignored.

"Gone? _Didn't make it?!_" the Dragon Slayer grid out, his grip tightening. Lyon had his lips squeezed shut, holding back a scowl and the words that would bring the reality crushing down on them. On him. But he was trying. He really was. But this idiot… he just kept _pushing._ "WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT ARE YOU SPROUTING?! HA?!"

He was in no state to keep up this front. He knew. It showed in his wavering voice and shaking physique. And suddenly Lyon hated himself for this overwhelming urge to just get away from all of them. "Move," he said weakly with a shake of his head, "I need to-"

"**NO!**" the boy yelled, enraged, blocking his escape, "NO WAY IN_ HELL _WOULD GRAY-"

Like a cornered animal, Lyon savagely met his eyes head on and roared, _**"**__**HE'S DEAD!"**_

The words chilled them more than any of his ice spells could.

Before any of them could recover from this punch to the gut, Lyon jerked out of Natsu's grip. He couldn't bare to look at them anymore. "Now _move_," he hissed out lastly. Lyon pushed against the Salamander's form that gave way far too easily, walking off in search of help for the girl in his arms.

Rain pattered around them. People spoke in hushed whispers and exchanged intrusive glances. And all reached Natsu's ear like a distant howl. _What happened? I don't know. I-__I__ think... someone died. Oh Christ... Poor kids- What's going on over there? The Fairies lost someone. W-What? Who? __I have no idea. Was it one of the weaker members?_

It had Natsu clenching his teeth.

A painful gnawing spread through Ultear's chest. This couldn't be happening. But it had. It did. Only she didn't believe it. She looked over to the younger girl, seeking confirmation with her eyes only. _Is it true?_

And it was that very expression that killed Meredy. Her eyes- Her Ultear's eyes wide in disbelief and so much hurt- It was more than she could take. The girl burst into tears before she could stop herself and that was all the confirmation she needed.

The stellar mage stood still with her mouth parted in shock. The news they were given… this knowledge that they would face the days ahead without one of their friends. It- It just didn't seem possible. It felt too surreal. But somewhere deep in her clenching heart Lucy knew.

And that left her dazed and lost.

When she looked up teary-eyed at Natsu, she searched for a clue to as what she should do, what she should say. But staring at his back like this, surrounded by the rain, Ul's numb silence and Meredy's sobs? She got nothing. It was only when she noticed the faint tremor of his hands that she knew what was going to happen.

"N-Natsu," she whispered brokenly. Several things happened then…

She heard the sound of heeled boots sprinting down the street and a familiar male voice calling out to them. Meredy fell to her knees crying harder when a concerned Jellal crouched down to hold her. Natsu-

Natsu was gone.

Running down the street after the time mage.

And Lucy?

Lucy remained glued to her spot.

One by one things started disappearing around her. From the street and Natsu's shape, to the sobs of the girl who kept repeating a single name, to the blue-haired outlaw who pulled her up and disappeared after the duo…

She was left alone, shivering against the rain that shouldn't have been this cold. She hugged herself. Big fat tears rolled down her cheeks. It was only a sob later that the sound of her own name being called registered in her ears.

"-UCY! _LUCY!_"

Erza hollered from her spot, catching the stellar mage's tearful gaze. "Lucy! What's going on?" she yelled having watched the whole scene unfold with uneasiness and horror.

"Er-za..." the blond squeaked out, unsure how to deal with this herself, let alone how to convey it to someone else. "G... G-Gray- he..." she couldn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to.

The Titantia was already pushing herself up to stand. But as it were her muscles couldn't hold her weight and she fell back.

"Dammnit!" she cursed. She needed to get up. _Come on legs, come on! Move! _But with another failed attempt, Erza knew she couldn't rely on herself for this. "Lucy!" she called out urgently, snapping the girl out of her trance, "Get over here! Help me up!"

~~ ( O ) ~~

During his years as a Fairy Tail mage, Gray Fullbuster had learned how to deal with situations that were… rather uncommon. For normal people that is. How he envied the bunch sometimes.

So yeah, he could name a few situations (if not a hundred) that fell under that category, like: fighting a giant rat ballerina, switching bodies with Lucy, going to Edolas, fighting a man-owl who ate Natsu in the Tower of Heaven, having a mushroom grow on top of his head, and... the list went on and on.

But this?

Gray felt his stomach twist in on itself.

He wasn't entirely sure how to face _t__his_. Mostly because _this_ was him literally staring himself _in the face._

_O__r,_ he gulped, horrified upon inspecting his own corpse closer, A_t least what__'__s left of it._

God. Could that even be called a face anymore? With all the blood and holes going straight through his skull, bits of muscles and bone peaking out and… w-was that his br- "Hurk-!"

Gray spun around, a hand to his mouth and the other to his stomach. Oh, God, he was going to vomit! He could feel it in that knee-jerk reaction when you're about eject a bile like a fucking volcano!

Only... it didn't happen.

Fuck! He- He couldn't vomit? Holy- Holy shit! H-He was dead. He was _actually_ **dead!** Wh-What the hell...? When the fuck did that happen?! HOW did it happen? He remembered fighting but he didn't remember freaking _dying_!

This jumbled up train of thoughts did... a few_ uncoordinated_ laps around his head. Words wrestled with each other and Gray was utterly convinced that he had lost it. That this was just one of those fucked up dreams that would haunt him until he actually died. Another glance at that messed up carcass that was wearing his pants and necklace had him feeling sick all over again.

"Well shit," he muttered at how realistic it all looked. He was either really dead or in dire need of some therapy.

What… What the hell was he supposed to do now?

If this was just a result of a restless night, then he would have woken up a while ago. Right? Which made the chances of this being just one messed up dream very, very slim. But on the other hand...

There were no holy or angelic people to tell him to '_go into the light_' (to which he would probably flip them the finger and tell them to _go to hell!_), nor a robe-covered skeleton to chase him down with a scythe and stuff his soul into a sack or something. In fact, there was absolutely _**nothing**_ but him and his goddamn corpse, bleeding out on someone's floor.

The more time he spent looking at it, and not actually waking up, the more he was convinced. He had kicked the bucket.

"No- No fucking way," he grid out with his fists clenched. For a moment he wished there was an actual bucket to kick so he could vent his frustration. He had to get out of here. Away from this disgusting mess and..._do what exactly__?_

He- He could… He should look for the rest of his friends. Yeah. Make sure they're okay. Make sure they're all there. And then…

Then what?

He contemplated in silence. Unpleasantly, once more finding himself, after a very, very long time, truly at a loss as to what to do with himself.

The rain was picking up. Dripping onto the evidence of his departure from the collapsed roof. Gray stood in a trance, watching the drops mesh with the blood on the pale skin and slide down the body. His body. Somehow, through the loud pitter-patter, he picked up on an irregular clatter from the outside. And within a second he recognized the sound of sandals, pounding in a familiar rhythm against the cobblestone street.

The clatter abruptly stopped and was replaced by heavy breathing. Gray looked up.

And immediately wished he didn't.

~~ ( O ) ~~

Two figures sprinted down the wet cobblestone street. Their feet splashed puddles, one shortly after the other, racing. Only not against each other.

The moment Ultear bolted in the direction Meredy had came from she just kept running. She didn't even know where exactly- all she knew was that she had to find Gray. She had to find him and- and do _something!_ He couldn't be gone. He couldn't! She wouldn't let him!

In a flash, a pinkish blur darted right past her. She wasn't surprised to see the Salamander running after her and taking lead. No. But the distance he was making between them so quickly did come as a shock. The time mage grit her teeth and pushed herself to run faster. He wasn't waiting on her and she was** not** losing him out of her sight. Natsu and his sense of smell were her only way to find the dark-haired ice mage.

The said Dragon Slayer was in a frenzy. Running in whichever direction he caught even the slightest whiff of the trio's scent. The rain was washing away the smells around as if to spite him. And if that wasn't enough to piss him off in his adrenaline driven state, then the thoughts concerning his rival sure did. He was going to beat _the living shit_ out him!

As soon as he found him! As soon as he found where that damn stripper was knocked out cold like some freaking pansy! Because that's what happened. He was just knocked out. He was just knocked out and Lyon didn't bother checking because he was stupid and a bastard and _an asshole above everything else!_

Who the fuck did he even think he was?!

Natsu made a mental note to kick Lyon's ass right after beating Gray to a bloody pulp for being a moron.

The Dragon Slayer stopped and sniffed the air, tracking after the scent of the three mages. He traced their steps persistently no matter how faint they got. And it wasn't long before their scents overlapped with the one he was looking for.

_There!_ Natsu broke into a run again.

In his haste, it didn't strike him as odd that along with the mixed odors there was another one. Strong and sharp, like metal, polluting the air around him. To him though, it was just a nuisance that made it extremely difficult to hold onto the ice-mage's scent.

When he turned a corner, Natsu skidded to a slippery stop. Surveying the messed up street and mountains of rubble, he frowned. Whatever that gross smell was, it was stronger here. But so was Gray's scent.

He was definitely here. He could smell him! But where-?

Natsu spun around and around, trying to pinpoint his location, but, goddamn it, that smell was everywhere-! And then it happened.

Recognition hit him harder than any punch he received so far.

Wide-eyed he turned around, facing a dark opening in the wall beside him. Natsu swallowed and hesitantly stepped closer. The smell was overwhelming. The anger he felt was snuffed out with the cold realization of what it exactly was.

Blood.

Lots and lots of blood.

His heart hammered loudly. Every nerve in his body shook with dread at what he was going to find. When he peered inside, veils of shadows made it difficult to tell shapes apart. But-

Just against the murky lighting and shades of black, something akin to a human shape could be made out.

And so could a sword shaped necklace.

~~ ( O ) ~~

If Gray didn't know any better, he could swear that the boy was staring him right in the eyes.

"… Natsu?"

His rival stood still, right behind the line of debris that separated them. The lack of response dampened Gray's surprise.

"You… You can't see me, can you?"

Silence was his answer.

"Right," Gray ran a hand slowly through his hair and sighed, "That also applies to hearing me too, I guess."

Natsu remained deathly quiet and motionless. So much, in fact, that it made the ice-mage uneasy. He was far too used to him being the expressive and loud idiot that he was. And while he didn't expect the Dragon Slayer to cheer and dance on his grave (no, he knew him better than that), this reaction was… worrisome.

He felt he had to say something. Anything. Try and ease this… whatever the hell this was. For Natsu? For himself? Hell if he knew. He just knew that now was the time to say what he usually couldn't say to him and hope that, maybe, it would reach him on some subconscious if not spiritual level.

"Natsu I-"

A body suddenly collapsed onto said boy, taking Gray by surprise. "U-Ultear?!"

The woman gripped onto Natsu's shoulder out of breath, cursing him and his enhanced abilities with every heave of her lungs. "W-" she pulled at his vest gulping a mouthful of air, "Whe-re is he...?"

When he didn't answer her, she had half the mind to shake the answer out of him. But upon seeing the expression she had never known on the boy's face, Ultear stopped herself. With a sinking feeling she glanced between him and the inside of the structure he was staring at. Until her eyes settled on...

As if reading her thought, Gray felt this sudden touch of alarm. "Fuck. Natsu! Natsu, don't let her-"

Gingerly, the woman stepped over the rubble.

"Gaah! You fucking idiot!" the dark-haired boy groaned and tried stepping in her way, "Ultear, stop okay? You don't wan-"

But she just passed through him. Just like Lyon had. And he was left shuddering at the sensation while she continued on, unaware. Each click of her footwear against the wooden floor was like a digit lost in a countdown. The more distance she closed, the more Gray could feel that metaphorical timer reaching its end.

And with her final step, he braced himself.

Although Gray was sure she couldn't see much in the dark, he believed she still saw more than enough. He waited for the gasps, the sobs and heart-wrenching words of denial that wouldn't make this any easier for him either.

But he got none of that.

Instead, she had crouched down next to his body and almost motherly brushed his bangs to the side. The damp clumps of hair stained her gloves black with blood.

"Oh sweet Maker," he mumbled after, not able to stomach watching this. She should not be caressing that- that _bloody_ _lump_ that was supposed to be his head so _affectionately!_ It was wrong. It was so wrong that Gray felt like he was about to vomit all over again.

Ultear remained as she was. Numb as if sedated, idly tracing the contours of what should have been a familiar face instead of a flesh mask with a hole going through it. It was supposed to be a young face. One far too young to be this bloody. Too young not to open its eyes again. Too never speak. Nor smile, nor laugh, nor argue or frown or-

A hand landed gently on her shoulder jolting her to the present. And somehow, Ultear wasn't all that surprised that it was Jellal. He bit on the inside of his cheek, analyzing the riddled body and trying not to shudder at all the holes staring back at him. With a light squeeze of her shoulder, he whispered, "We have to go." She didn't respond. He didn't really expect her to. He hated robbing her of this moment, of the chance to grieve for the boy, but they had no choice. They needed to leave. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly before removing his hand and turning away.

Ultear was sorry too. For a different reason. She was sorry that she never got to amend for the pain she caused the young alchemist. For the cuts on his battered heart she and Lyon teared open and left to bleed and scar. Sorry that, even in spite of that, he sealed their wounds closed, and they would never manage to do the same. That they could never rid him now of the chains they had shackled him with. And he had died with them, still heavily wrapped around his heart.

Pressing her lips into a single thin determined line, she said a simple, "No."

The single syllable Jellal stopped in his tracks.

By the time he turned back to her, bewildered as he was, Ultear was already on her feet. She slowly pulled her gloves off. "I can fix this," she said evenly.

Jellal frowned, uneasy. "Fix _this_?" he echoed, not quite sure what she was implying.

"Yes," she said far too uncaring and firm for his liking. Carelessly dropping her gloves to the floor, she mouthed just loud enough for him to hear, "I can bring him back."

He tensed, oblivious of their audience doing the same.

"Bring him back?" he inquired, alarm bells wildly clanging in the back of his head. When the time mage didn't clarify, the twisting of his gut urged him to pry. "How?"

She didn't answer him for a while. Her silence was haunting and clear evidence of something drastic about to take place. And when she finally did open her mouth, all she said was-

"By turning back time."

And a wild splash of blue exploded around her, throwing unexpected gusts of wind in their faces and blinding them.

"Ultear wait!" he shouted, momentarily shielding himself and caught off guard. Straightening up, Jellal narrowed his eyes against the violent bursts of light, trying to pick out her silhouette among the flashes of light blue.

He caught sight of her face in few short glimpses. Calm and accepting, with a type of wistful tranquility he felt was very wrong. It was that expression that edged him into taking a stubborn step towards her against the strong current of magic. "Ultear!"

She pretended she couldn't hear him. It felt as if even the slightest distraction would find a way to make her lose nerve. She was going to do this. There was no room for thinking or doubting or second-guessing. She was going to set things straight. She would make it right again. She would bring him back. She would.

The blue tendrils of magic wrapped around her hands, and she felt ready. With the last few incantations in her head, she crouched down. There was a light tremor in her hands and Ultear found herself wondering what it would feel like.

Would it be painful? Or would it be like this sudden burst of power that would immediately erase her existence? Let her slip away ignorantly and smoothly like she was never there in the first place?

Well… she was about to find out.

Ultear took a slow breath and held it in. Courageously accepting that it would be her last. Bidding silent goodbyes to the world around her and the people she held dear. Hoping that they would all live the happy lives they deserved well pass this moment. With a final look at the body of the boy she was doing this for, Ultear gave a small smile and dropped her palms down.

~~ ( O ) ~~

Before her hands could even touch the ground, fingers curled around her wrist, firm and solid as steel shackle, and tugged her up in a messy stumble to her feet.

All too suddenly the magic was gone. The painful glow vanished so quickly, returning the room to its original dark and rainy atmosphere. And the silence... One so subdued as if none of the people in that small confined space were living, breathing creatures.

Ultear's eyes were glued to some irrelevant little dark corner. Stunned and speechless at the realization that the blue-haired mage had interfered… and stopped her. He was holding her tightly by the wrist and looking at her. She knew. She could even imagine his face, hard and blank all at once, watching her mild with fright and disapproval. And she thought, _what right did he have-_

She felt the first small brush of something cold and vicious inside her. Something she hadn't felt in a while. Immediately she tried quelling it down with a cool exterior.

"Let go," she said evenly, a small warning at the edge of her voice. It was the only one she was willing to give.

Jellal didn't move and Ultear was half-expecting him to say no. No, actually she was hoping he would say no. Or at least something equally simple and infuriating enough to make her broaden her word-use to include a variety of swear words and profanities they weren't aware of her possessing.

His silence was grating on her nerves. The more it did, the more a physical demonstration of her rage rather than a verbal one seemed like a more favorable option. Inflamed, she waited for him to speak. To provoke her with whatever he chose to say. She all but shook in anticipation that she hadn't expected his followup to be-

"Something that powerful has a price, doesn't it?"

It threw her off. More than she would have liked. Her muscles involuntarily tensed. And in his grip, she was sure he felt it. Guilt prickled her for a moment.

Ultear didn't met his eyes... Jellal knew she wouldn't. What he said was a suspicion. One he got as the result of the equation that involved her personality, her knowledge of time magic and the present circumstances involving a single dark-headed boy she held dear. Her evasiveness just confirmed it. It was a character flaw of hers that he recognized far too easily.

"I'm willing to pay it," she replied coolly, trying to take her hand back unsuccessfully.

Jellal had contemplated this answer with a soft frown. She could see it in the way he pressed his lips together. He was, after all, just looking for a way to stall her out of some reason she was sure was utterly banal. It wasn't his call to make.

After closing his eyes for a brief moment, Jellal braced himself and looked back up at her with an unwavering face. "You can't just turn back time, Ultear," he said resolutely.

"Watch me," she said somewhere between a scoff and hiss, pulling harder to escape his grip.

"Ultear, you can't-

"_Yes_, I can," she interrupted, dangerously growling out each syllable and recklessly tugging at her arm now.

"No, you can't," he replied firmer, gripping tighter.

"YES I CAN!" she screamed, eyes finally snapping up to his, livid and outraged.

They had never been at each others throats like this. Never. Which was abnormally bewildering considering the amount of wrong-doing's and bad blood that should have been between them. This had probably been the first time and neither knew which lines were to be crossed and which not.

Jellal held her furious gaze with his own, equally angry and determined.

"No, you_ can't_," he growled out slowly and with a finality to his sentence like an enraged parent.

This childish way of debating was beneath them. Yet neither cared. In their enraged states both were ready to argue this way into infinity. But Ultear didn't have infinity. Each second that ticket by was a second lost in the amount of time she would be able to rewind with her supply of magic.

"It's _my_ _life_ to give," she said matter-of-factly. The accusation, _You have no right to interfere_, hanged loosely in the air. The reminder of his own suicide attempt was a jab he either found a way around in this conversation, or he was sure she'd gladly remind him and end it there.

A different approach was in order. Trying to appeal to her rationality. "Ultear," he started, letting aggravation slip into his voice a little, "we just won _a war! _And barely!" He paused for the words to sink it. "_A war_ we wouldn't have had if people didn't mess with the time-line in the first place!"

"Then we'll win it _again!_" she yelled, for the moment utterly convinced that is was that easy. Ultear was never a blind optimist. But she was desperate. More than that, she was lost on what to do with this- this sudden burst of hot energy rampaging through her like mad. Spreading like an illness and overwhelming like hysterics.

"You don't know that!" Jellal screamed back, trapping her other hand when it seemed like she was about to punch him, "If you reset everything who knows what the outcome will be this time! Who knows how many people will die or get killed this time!"

"I **don't** care! _Let me go!_" she shook her head fast, fighting to escape with strength only.

"Don't be stupid!" he hissed out, "You can't gamble away everyone's lives like this!"

Everyone had a breaking point. That single thread of enforced composure that only got wound up tighter and tighter, until it eventually and regrettably, viciously snapped. And hers had been taut enough to slice a head clean off. "I _CAN'T_ LET HIM **DIE** LIKE _THAT!_" she screamed right into his face. Had her hands been free he was sure she would have gestured wildly to the body slumped against the rubble, "HE DOESN'T DESERVE **TO**** D****IE** LIKE _THAT_!"

The pause after her scream was almost deafening. Yet it was enough for Jellal to school his face and pick his final move.

"And what about Meredy?"

It was like he had slapped her in the face. Unexpected and had her painfully reeling back in shock. She held his gaze for a heartbeat before something in her eyes crinkled. A tiny fraction created in that armor of red rage and fury. All he needed to advance. "Does she deserve to watch you die?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

Ultear said nothing. Instead she only stared up at him with an expression that he was unfamiliar with on her face. Like a child hit for a first time. Eyes painfully wide and uncomprehending. It was heartbreaking.

Just over Jellal's shoulder she caught sight of the said girl standing next to the Dragon Slayer and silently watching her. The tears in her eyes selfishly spoke of betrayal, but her pressed lips and quivering jaw spoke of understanding. Of her not interfering with Ultear's decision no matter how much she wished to. Not this time. When she had said that all she wanted for Ul was to be happy, she had meant it. That was how much she loved her.

"Are you really going to do that to her?"

A shiver went through her. Only it didn't pass. It lingered somewhere in the back of her spine like an earthquake, unstoppable and spreading up her back until it reached her shoulder and her whole body was shaking. Her head dropped and with the soft twitchy whimper tears broke through her tightly closed eyes.

There was nothing worse than when you think that there is nothing more the world could throw at you, no sore spot to hit or punch strong enough to leave you curled up in a fetal position, only to prove you undoubtedly and _utterly_ wrong.

It wasn't pleasant. And it was never easy.

Jellal drew her into a hug. It was warm, slightly claustrophobic and in a way completely alien. Her fingers curled into the material of his cloak as if she were anchoring herself against the flood of tears that wrecked her frame. Had he not separated them after a while and ushered them into movement, she was sure she would have stayed like that, bawling her eyes out and curling into herself.

The outlaw wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gently guided them to the outside. The moment they crossed the barrier of rubble, Meredy, no longer holding back, rushed and strongly wrapped her arms around Ultear, who responded the same.

Jellal stood in line with the Fairy Tail's mage, back turned to his fallen comrade. His brown eyes lowered and silently he bit at his lip. "I'm sorry for your loss," he finally muttered when no words came to him. When there was no response, Jellal unclasped the cloak around his shoulders and pushed it against the boy's arm. "I'm sorry."

~~ ( O ) ~~

Yes, the year X791, 7th July, would truly be a day engraved into people's minds.

For some it would be marked as a victory. For a battle fought and survived against creatures far greater than themselves.

For some it would be the time of grief, guilt and regret when they left the capital of Fiore somewhere far, far behind them.

For some it would be remembered by the weight in their hands, far too still, limp and lifeless. And for others?

It would forever be tainted by the heart-wrenching sight of a single boy walking down the dark rainy street in silence.

The body of his dead best friend wrapped up firmly in his arms.

* * *

**Ohhhh deer ._. What have I done? **

**(it's spelled as it was intended to)**

**Soooo, um, yeeeeaaaah... Fun read ha? Yikes... Don't hate me. e.e**

**It was hard writing this for me. I am naturally a very cheery person. So keeping myself down and depressed enough for almost twenty pages wasn't easy. **

**Anyway feel free to reward me with a review. They make me happy. And making me happy, makes me wanna make you happy so you can make me happy again. See a pattern here? **

**Until the next update guys!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello all you wonderful people!**

**Okay, okay, who sucks? *raises hand* That's right, me. I was planning on finishing this by the end of July…. But that, um... obviously didn't happen... We can all blame summer vacation and my horrible attention spa- uhhhh butterfly!**

**'Thank you's and digital muffins to:** AsDarknessSpreads, PokeTail, frozen-in-wonderland, MiniMcGiggles, dragonlover89, beTum, G-Juicy, dyingmockingbird, hakuryuusscar, Koori Fullbuster, Koutei's Empress and Akame-Ookami; **you guys motivated me to update somewhere within this century.**

**ANYWAY! Would you all believe me if I said that this was far from a short and simple story that only dealt with Gray's death? I bet you're wondering: but how? What else is there beyond the angst, drama and sobby feels? Welp just keep reading!**

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather; (bless you everlasting patience with me… now go write your fanfic!)

* * *

**Chapter 4**

It was that moment of day, when the sun rests just in the right spot and turns a seemingly ordinary kitchen into a gorgeous sight. Warm hues of yellow spilling over the table through the dusty windowglass and curtains. Sunlight getting caught in glasses neatly aligned on the counter and reflecting shiny abstract shapes all around the walls.

It was beautiful.

It was the kind of sight that was best suited with a slow and casual piano piece, a cat flopped on its side, lazily napping in the sunlight and occasionally stretching. Or a silhouette, slim and delicate, drying dishes skillfully with a cloth, humming a melody light as air and just as uncatchable.

He had seen that scene somewhere. That homey, domestic picture of a life that had no place in his house. It was hidden somewhere deep within his mind. Buried underneath piles of debris and memories of fire and ruin, like a holy relic stashed away to preserve its purity.

Sometimes, he would lie down there on the kitchen floor. Stretch in that little patch of framed sunlight like the cat he imagined, and close his eyes, pretend he could hear that ghost of a lullaby and drift off.

He wished it was sunny.

Gray lay on his back on the tiled floor, staring up at the dreary clouds through the window weaving into each other and forming a thick complicated web. Rain pattered against the glass in irregular patterns. The entire room was pouring over into colorless depressing shades.

It was horrible.

Trying to take refuge like this. Trying to act and do common everyday things. Unlock the door to his house, turn on the light, take a book to read. And then act like his hand never slipped through any of them like through water. Pretend that this was just another lazy day off he took from doing demanding jobs all across Fiore. Pretend that he truly felt the coldness of the tiles on his back. Pretend that days hadn't flown by. And just pretend and pretend and pretend-

Pretend that he didn't die.

That none of it was real. Ultear's attempt at sacrifice, the earth-shattering reality, and every goddamn moment that followed never happened. That life didn't suddenly disqualify him, kick him out, and leave him without an explanation, but with the front-row seat to everything he didn't want to see.

Natsu. That fire-breathing dimwit that was his rival. That loud knucklehead of a teammate who handled everything with his fists. That _idiot _who needled his way under his skin. That _moron_ of a friend… gently wrapping up that messy pile of limbs. Picking it up. Carrying it as if it were a sleeping person, easily woken up by even the slightest of jolts.

Erza and Lucy. Hurt and limping, holding onto each other and searching for them in the dark rainy streets with everything they had. And then suddenly stopping at the sight of them.

The familiar crowd of Fairy Tail members, worried and uneasy. Their heads turning to look at them. Faces either crumbling or hardening, one after the other. Whimpers and close-knitted hugs. Soothing words and muffled hiccups.

And he just stood out of that circle.

Isolated. Alone. With reality crashing all around him.

That was the moment when he ran away.

Turned his back to them with such ease he felt he should be reprimanded for it.

It felt like the best thing to do. Just walk away. Curl up into that little spot of sunlight like a child and just daydream of better times. Cover himself with lighter and sweeter thoughts and just… pretend it never happened.

He really, _really_ wished it was sunny.

To not have this unfamiliar type of chill breathing down his neck. Not have this unwelcome weight nauseatingly roll around his stomach. To not think, rationalize, find a solution, or do anything that would lead him to acknowledge this.

A gentle click made him flinch. The sound of a key being nudged into a lock

Was he just imagining it or-?

The low creek of his front-door had him holding in a shaky breath. He stayed still, tense and dreading the sound of multiple feet shuffling and moving around.

With the first sound of a voice, something shifted inside him. "Um, where do I put this?"

"Just leave it there, Lucy," another voice said dismissively.

A third one firmly interjected, "There's an umbrella stand over there."

Gray bit his lip and begrudgingly got to his feet. Every step he took felt heavy, like he was dragging a ball and chain on each foot. He stopped in the kitchen's doorway. Watching as Erza, Lucy and Cana hung up their coats and let themselves in. Uninvited and bringing in what he'd been avoiding all this time.

The irrefutable truth he could no longer hide from.

~~ ( O ) ~~

"Alright," Erza stood up, leveling the crinkles on her skirt. "Let's do this," she said with a straight face. "Two will look for the picture and one for the suit."

"Will you forget about the damn picture?" the card-mage said offhandedly, sounding tired, "Just grab the suit and let's go."

Lucy glanced up amid taking off her shoes, eying the two carefully. The redhead frowned in response. "We need one. We're not using the one from the guild."

"Why not?" Cana pressed, "What's wrong with it?"

Erza didn't so much as bat an eyelash. "It's unfitting,"

"Well," she replied matter-of-factly, crossing her arms, "There aren't any others."

"That's why we're here Cana," Lucy gently piped in, trying to sound comforting and understanding. "To check."

This however had the opposite effect. Cana gave a sharp look. "He _doesn't _have any," she insisted, nearly growling it out.

"We won't know until we look," Erza cut in. "Besides, I refuse to use his profile picture from the guild's registry at the funeral."

There had been something in her voice. Final, yet challenging. Something that Cana met with her chin slightly tucked in, lips pressed tightly and eyes fixed on hers, shimmering angrily like the thunder outside.

"Does anyone know where his photo-albums are?"

Lucy suddenly stepped between them, "I haven't been over here too often, so I don't really know. And umm, I'm not really comfortable with the idea of rummaging through-"

"Lowest shelf next to the writing desk," the card-mage spat, pushing past the two girls. She flipped on the light-switch and walked inside, "I'll find the suit. Let's get this over with and go."

Lucy chewed on her lip and gave the redhead a nervous glance.

Erza said nothing.

~~ (O) ~~

Gray sat in his armchair, hands folded and silently simmering. He was not upset. Nope. Not in the slightest.

"What about this one?"

"No, not that one."

Why would he be upset that the girls were going through his damn stuff? Che, it wasn't like they could _ask him_ or, hell, like he could stop them. So in light of balancing the unfairness of this situation, Gray had decided that if they were gonna go rummaging through his house, then they'd do so under _his_ supervision. Erza and Lucy sat on the floor amid scattered photo-albums and neat little piles of pictures as they went through them. Long metallic scratching could be heard from his room. If he craned his neck a bit, just between the odd angle and the door, he could make out Cana fiddling around his closet.

"This one?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line, eyes drawn back to yet another picture with him surrounded by his friends.

A small pause while Erza inspected it. "No," she shook her head, "Not that one either."

Lucy gave a small nod, held onto it for a few more seconds and then put it on a nearby pile. Her eyes grew sad again. Gray shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Folding his arms just a bit tighter and tucking in his chin, he tried fighting against this lousy cycle of bitter frustration coiling in the pit of his stomach and empathy wringing his heart. The two emotions swung back and forth in him like a pendulum.

Time passed too slowly like this. The ruffling of papers, shuffling of clothes, short whispered sentences and the silence. It all got under his skin.

Another photo-album was closed. Lucy sighed and gently ran her fingers along its cover. So many pages filled with his life. All of them together smiling, arguing, fighting, drinking, growing up. It was always with them. Not a single picture of just him or of him before the tender age of nine. Before he had stumbled into Fairy Tail.

This made her recall that with his family dead and no other known blood relatives, they were the only family Gray had.

And that suddenly brought a sting to her eyes. More intense and more hurtful than all the other times she fought back her tears, because she wondered if they were ever enough. She hoped they were. She really did. Lucy could remember all too well how losing her mom felt at such a young age. The hole that was never fulfilled. But losing both parents so suddenly in the midst of all that chaos?

Unconsciously her fist curled up and Lucy screwed her eyes shut. She tried recalling as many pictures as she could, try and plaster them over her heart like band-aids. She carefully listened to the crinkle of pages being turned beside her, the shuffle of feet in the next room, the patter of rain and low hum of thunder. And suddenly it occurred to her...

"Erza?"

"Hm?"

"What's going to happen to his house?"

~~ (O) ~~

For a person who regularly lost his cloths, he sure had a lot of them.

Cana idly flipped through the cluster of hangers. Jackets, vests, coats, but not a single goddamn suit.

It was beyond her why they even insisted on one. But leave it to Erza to get _everything_ right and even have it in her to nitpick. The casket wouldn't even be open during the funeral! At least it shouldn't be. She had seen Gray's body. What was a fucking suit even supposed to do?

A memory flickered in her eyes. Holes on deathly white skin. A face that wasn't there.

She shivered.

No suit could cover those up.

With a shake of her head Cana continued her search, a little more edgy than she would have liked. It showed in the jerky movement of her hands and that bothered her. For a moment, she considered pulling out the wine bottle stashed in her carrier bag. However, the promise of a scolding and tedious lecturing from a certain person, had her rethinking that option. She didn't have the patience for it now.

The sooner she found the damn thing, the sooner she could get out of there and leave Erza and Lucy to do whatever the hell they were doing. Because between the Titania expressionlessly obsessing over every little detail for the funeral and Lucy constantly acting like she was walking on egg-shells, Cana was all but ready to start throwing things. They were, honest to God, pissing her off.

Like an answered prayer, the card-mage spotted a protective see-through layer on one of the hangers in the back. She pushed a few articles aside and pulled it out. A breath of relief washed over her. Neatly folded pants and a formal suit and tie inside. She all but hugged it. And not a moment too soon-

"What's going to happen to his house?"

Silence followed the words. Like a dark heavy fog it wrapped around her, making her still and tense. She measured it in heartbeats.

A flip of a page. "It will probably go to the government."

Something tightened in Cana's chest, something hot and violent, when Erza continued without a moment's hesitation, "Depending on what the City Council decides, it will either be put on sale or given to a-"

She slammed the closet shut with a loud _bang_.

"Found it!" she yelled, leaving the room in a fast heavy stride. She bundled up the suit in a fast roll and stuffed it into her bag, already aiming straight for the door. "I'm off."

But before her hand could grab the knob- "Cana!" Her hand paused just above it.

Slowly she turned towards them, glancing over her shoulder. Lucy stared at her with startled eyes, and Erza with a steely gaze.

She waited. So when all Erza did was nod and say, "Tomorrow at noon," Cana tried not to slam the door on her way out.

~~ (O) ~~

Lucy winced.

The room thrummed after the angry rattle. It shook something in the atmosphere. Something already wound up so tight that she could actually hear its threads crackling. At least, she thought she had. Because when she looked to the side, Erza was already back to scouring the photo-albums. Cool and passive, seemingly undisturbed by Cana's latest passive-aggressive act.

"Keep looking, Lucy."

She almost flinched when Erza spoke up. "R-Right," she said grabbing the next album and flipping it open.

A doodle stared at her.

Lucy blinked. She flipped a page. And then another and another, both fascinated and uneasy at the sight of hand-drawn scribbles, magic circles, arrays and weapon designs. "Um, Erza..."

"Yes?"

The stellar-mage licked her lips before she said anything, "I, um, I don't think there are any more albums."

Erza's eyes were instantly on hers. "What?"

Without waiting for an answer, she took the book out of Lucy's hands and scanned the first few pages. Frowning, she put it aside and grabbed the next one on top of the pile, flipping it open. And then the next one. And the next. And so on until they were sitting in a messy nest of sprayed out sketchbooks and journals.

The bottom shelf was left bare and empty.

Lucy shifted awkwardly on her spot, pulling at the rims of her long-sleeved sweater and tugging them over her knuckles. Erza chewed on her lip like mad, staring at the floor in such intense concentration that it made the blond uncomfortable.

"Maybe," Lucy softly spoke up after a moment, "Maybe... we can ask Reedus to draw us one?"

She didn't get an answer.

"... Erza?"

The girl in question slightly shifted her shoulders, before she sighed. "You're right," she mumbled out, slowly straightening up. "That's a good idea," she said, already back to her poised self and delicately gathering up a few photos. "Here," she handed them to her, "Take these to him and ask him if he can make something for tomorrow."

The blonde dutifully nodded, already taking the pictures and sliding them into her purse. On her way towards the door, she picked up on the lack of steps behind her. Slowly she turned around, eyeing her friend, "You're... not coming?"

Erza shook her head. "I'm gonna clean up here," she said, already piling up the pictures they've taken out. "I'll be there shortly, don't worry."

Her dismissal was as obvious. But so was Lucy's reluctance to do so. The blonde was sure it showed on her face. That uneasy feeling was back, slowly threading under her skin and making her jittery. Making her read into every word and movement like a scheming manipulator and plan ahead her actions so they'd correspond with the people around her. She hated this anxiety. It felt like she was walking on a minefield just waiting for the inevitable _click_.

Her choices were presented to her. And despite every muscle in her body urging her to step into the zone of no return-

"Okay," she said, a sense of shame enveloped her in a tight embrace, "See you there."

She slipped on her shoes and left Erza alone in that cluster of memories. A voice in the back of her mind screamed of betrayal. She tried her best to snuff it out and banish it to the back of her subconscious where voices grew silent. But its echo remained, lingering in the halls of her mind like a ghost.

~~ (O) ~~

It didn't take long for each picture to be put back in its rightful place. Nor did it take long for each album, sketchbook and journal to be returned to its exact spot on the shelf.

She made sure to remember the order in which they were placed before Lucy and her started taking them out. So now that they were back, Erza made sure to check again, and then double check. With nothing misplaced, she leaned back, pacified with her work.

A clock relentlessly ticket somewhere in the background, reminding her that she was wasting time. There was so much to do ever since the world settled down from its last uproar. She needed to stay on top of everything. Handle details and arrangements with composure and swiftness only she possessed.

There were victories that Fiore wanted and deserved to celebrate. There were reconstructions people needed to do in Crocus. And then there was a funeral that needed organizing.

The king and his daughter understood. So did the other guilds and citizens. They have all shown their condolences and given their sympathy. And while they were all greatly appreciated, those people wouldn't grieve like Fairy Tail would for their teammate. They couldn't feel the loss they do or the consequence of a spot left empty, of a vacant seat and a voice gone silent.

They wouldn't feel the weight of a headstone staring straight at them instead of two dark blue eyes.

Loss wasn't unknown to Erza. It wasn't unknown to any of them. But she knew best how to deal with it. That's why she took it upon herself to arrange the body transfer, funeral and the wake. Others have offered to help and she had politely accepted, letting them help out here and there with small tasks. But the reins? They remained in her steady grip.

This was her job. No one else's.

Standing up, her eyes landed on one of the few pictures Gray actually had displayed. Gingerly she picked it up by its frame. Their little family of seven at their usual table. Her in the middle holding Gray and Natsu with both hands in a choke-hold on each side. Lucy hugging Wendy in front of them, both laughing and holding peace signs. Happy on one side and Carla on the other, waving at the camera and smiling.

It always took her by surprise how happy memories could bring pain. Just as she was about to place the frame back, something caught her eye.

A smudge.

Just near the edge of the frame.

Erza frowned and blew onto the glass; rubbing it with her sleeve until the offending spot disappeared. Content, she reached to place the picture back and then stopped midway.

With her eyes narrowed, she ran a finger along the shelf, gathering a fine layer of dust on it. Unconsciously, she pressed her lips into a thin line before turning and scanning the entire room. Cobwebs stretched in the ceiling corners. Dust gathered on almost every surface. A basket of unwashed clothes next to the bathroom door, waiting an owner that wouldn't return.

Her throat tightened.

_'This won't do,' _she thought, putting the picture back. '_This won't do at all.'_

~~ (O) ~~

A fine number of cleaning supplies was lined up like a row of soldiers.

"_What_ are you doing?"

He had to ask. When she rolled up her sleeves and gathered the cleaning products she found around his house, Gray pinched the bridge of his nose, "You have got to be kidding me. Really?"

Oblivious to the person standing just an arm-length away, Erza poured a bit of antiseptic into the washbowl; with a rag in hand, she carried it over to the shelf.

"I can't believe you're doing this," he followed right behind her, irritated, "Erza, you're being ridiculous! Just leave it alone, Jesus. It's one thing to break into someone's house, it's another to clean the whole damn place up."

This, of course, accomplished nothing. She kneeled down and started removing objects from his shelves, one after the other, and sorting them into separate piles. He crouched down next to her, close enough to get a good look at her face. The faint outlines under her eyes. The colors in her cheeks dulled. The tightness in her jaw. And every other little tell she could never hide from him.

"... Hey," he mumbled, voice going soft and troubled. "Erza... You need to stop," he reached for her hand, intent on gently leading it away. But instead of his fingers wrapping around hers... they just went through. They only grasped air and curled in on themselves.

Gray held his breath, stunned and thrown off at the sight of two limbs going through each other. Eventually, the shock began to wear off. His fingers slowly curled all the way into a fist he pressed against his forehead.

...right.

He was dead.

Seconds ticked by him, faster than ever.

"Okay," he ran a hand through his dark locks and sat down with his back against the wall. "Whatever. Do what you want," he said, chin up and staring up at the ceiling like a teenager set on ignoring the world around him. "Not like I can stop you anyway."

He managed to keep that detached persona very shortly. The silence made him fidgety like an intrusive stare you'd pretend not to notice. He felt the need to sigh, click his tongue, tap his foot against floor, or just do all three altogether. The only other noises besides the ones he was making, and yet fell on deaf ears, were the occasional thumps and bumps of various doo-dads Erza moved around. He felt compelled to express his opinion on this.

"You know you're not helping with all of... that," he gestured lazily towards her. "You wanna keep yourself busy? Go help Natsu clean _his_ house." Gray snorted, pulling his knees closer. "That idiot needs all the help he can get. I'm sure it will take you a week just to open the freaking door."

It was awhile until Erza finished, suddenly standing up. He peered at her from under his bangs. "You done?"

The ice-mage watched from his spot as she disappeared into another room with the washbowl. He - _honest to God _\- dared hope she would walk back now and start packing up her stuff to leave. He felt tired. The kind of tired that wasn't fixated in the bones and muscles, but the kind where he's too weary and confused and numb to handle all this angsty bullshit from the girls. So when Erza returned with a freshly filled bowl of water, a renewed wave of depression and frustration hit back.

Gray hung his head, "No... Of course you're not." He should have known better. And that thought made something curdle inside him; something sour and hateful and yet, at the same time, heartachingly hurtful.

"You know what? Screw this," he snarled suddenly, having had enough of this shit. "I'm going for a walk," the teen stood up, steering himself right for the door, "Do yourself a favor and stop wasting your time here."

Gray reached for the handle, only to miss it. He winced in surprise, before glaring at the door with enough vigor to burn a hole through it. His whole stomach convulsed, clenching like it was trying to drive out every shred of anger and denial he repressed and left to boil inside him. He was ready to erupt. And so as the last resort to prevent it, Gray closed his eyes. He forced his lungs to take in a single deep calming breath... and then he stepped through the door.

He only opened his eyes when he was sure that he was out. When he was positive that the damp and colorless street would be the first thing he saw.

He took a moment to map out his route, make sure it would take him a while before he returned. Once he had decided on one, he set off, trying his best to forget everything that just happened. The only problem with that was that pretending was becoming harder.

~~ (O) ~~

He didn't go back home that night.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that he wouldn't. Gray walked for a long time. Long after night fell, and long after the sun rose. He just walked. Sometimes several times down the same streets, past the same houses and same shops that were by this time around opening up. People were creeping out of their homes, opening stalls, prying their windows open to check the weather.

And as more and more of them came into sight, walked alongside him and went about their ways, it increasingly became obvious that he could no longer limit his world to just himself. That's the moment when the thoughts he had avoided started creeping up on him, one by one, each depressing in their own way. Their daily routines made him want to get back to his own. Back to the guild, to see his friends, do something routine, something simple. Something normal.

But he couldn't. And that fact hanged around him like a red tape securely wrapped around anything he wanted to interact with. Like a rueful reminder everywhere he turned until it drove him into acceptance. And there was... a lot to accept. A whole new level of bizarreness he wasn't ready to come to terms with. It was too surreal and terrifying.

That's why he was more than a little perplexed to what, on both heaven and Earthland, possessed him to come here.

The maker mage wasn't sure if this counted as being brave or bordering on Natsu's level of stupidity. Charging in without any forethought was the Salamander's way of doing things, not his. And yet, here he was.

The emblem of Magnolia's cemetery loomed above him, grim and colorless like everything else around him. Because from the moment he opened his eyes, the rain came and went, but the sky never actually cleared up. It clung to its gray colors and it was like reality itself drank them up like a sponge.

A bell chimed somewhere from within the graveyard, signaling noon, and suddenly Gray didn't feel too sure about this anymore. Anxiety hit him like a punch to the stomach at the thought of passing through here. For a moment he seriously contemplated a plan of action only to remembered that he was pretty limited in the actions department since his... _passing_.

His fists tightened.

He needed to do this. He needed to see his friends. Needed as in 'I'm about to flip my shit' kind of need. He needed the familiarity. The voices and faces, their habits and mannerisms. He was willing to take anything at this point. Anything to help him suppress and swallow down the scream building up in his throat.

Gray swallowed, and with the first step he took, tried very hard to make himself keep walking. Maybe if his mind wasn't so sullen, he would have found it ironic that something with no apparent body mass could feel heavier than lead.

A prick started at the back of his neck, a herald of a still unnamed emotion that gradually trickled down his back like cold water. His muscles involuntarily clenched. Gray slipped pass unnamed tombstones on either sides of him, all of a sudden mortified to brush against any, even though he knew that he couldn't. It was irrational, paranoid even, but a fresh breath of fear rose up his spine at the thought nevertheless. There was something binding about the stone; cold, solid, and frighteningly real. Something that felt like a trap.

It was unnerving how something so plain could look so unreasonably menacing within moments. Like simply touching one would ultimately suck him away into the earth, into fragmented nothingness.

It was getting harder to stay focused. That little semblance of calmness he had was falling away in pieces and his mind was suddenly urging him to turn away, that this was a bad idea, that he wasn't supposed to be here, and yet Gray sped up. His steps grew longer, faster, more frantic, because what he needed, what he craved so badly were-

People.

He let out a lungful of air and straightened up. _There. _Under the milky light of cloud cover, a mass of people gathered outside the church. He started towards them in lighter step. The closer he got the more he could make out friends, acquaintances, allies, faces he only ever got to learn in passing. It seemed like everybody he had ever known in his life was shuffling about at the same dozen meters of ground. It was like the most colourful threads of his life were coming together in front of his own eyes to weave a black tapestry to honor his death.

He didn't know whether he should feel amazed or disturbed by this.

People still kept pouring into the graveyard. Guild members and allies. People he wasn't quite sure he knew and familiar faces whose names he couldn't pin down. It was overwhelming.

Gray stopped a few short feet away from all of them, observing them for a long silent minute. A lump formed in his throat. He felt like an intruder, which was, when he thought about it, just ridiculous. It wasn't like he was crashing a wedding. Quite the contrary. Besides, it was _his_ funeral. He was allowed to crash. Expected even.

That's when he saw them there, his closest friends and guildmembers huddled together a bit to the side inside the chapel. He couldn't help but pick up on how no one seemed capable of looking at each other. Or how no one spoke unless it was to utter a 'thank you' for an offered hand in condolences.

It took him a while before he gathered enough courage to step closer.

~~ (O) ~~

His hands moved mechanically. Cross and wrap, through the loop, and adjust the… and it looked like crap. Again.

With a sigh he tugged the tie loose and adjusted the material to start all over again. Cross, wrap, loop and- goddamn it! He was doing the exact same thing all over again.

Natsu was seconds away from ripping the damn thing from his neck. He knew how to tie a fucking tie. He _knew_ he knew becau-

"_-se I'm surprised you can even tie your fucking shoes. Oh, wait! You don't wear any! Now it all makes sense."_

"_Urgh, piss off! I got it! Look!"_

"… _Oh for the love of-! Give it here before you choke yourself to death."_

"_Fuck off Gray! I don't need your help!"_

"_Zip it ashbreath and pay attention. I'm not showing you again, got it? Just do what I do. Cross it like this, then wrap this end around, good, pull it through the loop, then through the knot and adjust it like- so! There. See? Even a dimwit like you can do it."_

His eyed widened.

The knot properly rested at the base of his neck.

His fingertips tingled from the movements he thoughtlessly mimicked. He swallowed, fingers running along the material and toying with the knot. He looked somewhere pass the mirror and his reflection. A deep troubled frown settled on his face.

"Natsu..."

Startled, he blinked out of his daze.

Happy stood in the back, wearing a little black vest and clutching a small bouquet of daisies. "We're going to be late," he mumbled out, lowering his ears.

Natsu stood still, lingering in front of his reflection, before slowly nodding. "Right," he said, tugging the tie until it came loose. "Sorry. Let's go."

He hated wearing ties anyway.

~~ (O) ~~

She wanted to go home.

This feeling intensified with every extended hand Lucy shook and every practiced smile she offered in return. There was a certain weight in the action that took a toll on her mentally.

"Are you okay?"

She looked up at the Celestial Spirit by her side. Loke eyed her carefully through the rims of his sunglasses, face blank and guarded to all but the ones who caught the occasional flicker of grief in his eyes.

"Yeah," she mumbled with a small nod, turning back to the crowd of sad and sympathetic faces, "There's just… a lot of people here."

She scanned the entrance of the chapel, trying her best to avoid any more eye contact. Still no sign of Erza and Natsu.

That uneasiness was back, winding her up with a string of skin-biting worries; slowly and easily just like a music box until its ready to play. _They should have been here by now_, she thought, trying not to worry her bottom lip too much. This concern hung around her like an unshakable chill, clinging to her skin and slowly spreading until it reached into her bones. Until it started to sound more like an accusation than worry.

_Th__ey're late_, she told herself and the few who actually inquired. _They'll be here any moment, now._

And while they accepted this answer with a solemn nod of understanding, her subconscience, the judge sitting in the back of her head, had yet to be persuaded. _They're just a little late, the sermon hasn't even begun yet,_ she tried to justify it, yet it sounded way too much like an excuse than a reasonable defense. She didn't know what else to offer. She didn't know _where_ they were (on their way or at home was her best guess), nor could she conclude _why_ they weren't there to begin with, the funeral mere minutes away.

Erza suddenly flashed in her eyes. Smile too composed and body way too still, sitting in that mess of paper and stinging memories. Natsu, on that cold and rainy night, with a body wrapped up in his arms and passing right by them like they weren't even there; hiding it away and sheltering it from the world, from prying eyes and anyone who dared to try and see '_what the damage was_'.

Lucy swallowed thickly, all too suddenly reminded of another funeral. Of a man crying over a casket and a girl too young to wrap her head around life and death. Of those moment when she had nothing to offer the people around her and thus in return gained nothing she needed; pitiful and sympathetic looks, a few condolences and hugs from people she didn't know.

She shakes another series of hands. Smiles were becoming harder to share. Natsu and Erza still weren't there and the others were starting to glance at the door frequently. A spike of fear went through her. Like the guilty suddenly hearing the jury's scandalized and hushed whispers behind them. Because she felt that if she had done _something_, they would've been here from the start.

Something shifted inside her, slowly and gradually, wedged right between her heart and ribcage, troubling her lungs. Something she had long forgotten about. A seed.

Someone's eyes met hers and the flash of recognition snapped her out of her daze. Jura Neekis and Lyon Vastia walked through the double doors, Lamia Scale members and guildmaster in tow. Lucy held her breath.

"Miss Heartfilia, was it?" the burly man asked. She nodded in answer before he extended his hand to her, "I'm... sorry for your loss."

She shook his hand with a low "Thank you." The man nodded before moving down the row of Fairy Tail's members. Lucy turned to the ice-mage, their eyes locked and nothing was said. There was an unspoken understanding there as they shook hands. He moved along, down the row and then came back to stand next to her, grieve for the fallen Fairy just like the rest of them. Grieve for the brother he watched die.

They stood beside each other, backs straight and suspended in silence. Until she decided to break it.

"Lyon..." His name escaped her in a rush of courage before she even knew what she wanted to say. She looked up at him, staring him in the eyes for a long moment, before the words formed in her mouth. "Thank you…" A pause. "Thank you for helping Juvia."

He didn't look away from her. But she knew he wanted to. She could see it in the tautness of his face, somethin between being surprised and in pain. A moment later his eyes grew sad, reminding her of melting ice-cubes.

"It's nothing," he mumbled, shoulders sagging and looking away. He swallowed once to clear his throat. "Is she...?"

"No..." She said, eyes going distant and words lingering on her tongue, "She's still sleeping."

They're both silent again and she hears him sigh.

"I'm sorry for..." he muttered, pausing to lick his lips and sort his words, "For back in Crocus. I… I should have handled it better."

The images were still fresh in her mind's eye. The words still raw and sharp and Lucy needed to interrupt him before they could bite her again. "It's alright, I… _We_ know."

Lyon nodded. A moment later the ice mage frowned, eyes scanning the room and Lucy braced herself. "Where are-"

As if on cue, long fast steps crossed the threshold of the chapel. _Erza,_ the blonde breathed a breath of relief. The redhead greeted them all with a firm nod and steered herself straight for the priest who patiently stood at the far end of the room.

A few hushed words were exchanged before the elderly man nodded at her and stepped forth.

"The service is about to begin," he said, opening a small book in his hands. The murmurs quieted down as he began, "We are gathered here to say farewell to Gray Fullbuster and to commit him into the hands of God..."

As he spoke, Erza scurried back, taking the empty space next to Lyon. Lucy glanced her way, worry palpable in her eyes. In a daring split second, she nudged the ice-mage into switching places with her. "Hey," she whispered once she was next to her teammate, "Where were you?"

"Sorry," Erza whispered back, eyes never leaving some spot between the priest and coffin while she took off her coat. "I got caught up in some work."

Lucy opened her mouth, a fine number of question ripe in her throat and ready for asking... but promptly closed it. _Not now,_ she thought, pressing her lips tighter. It wasn't the right moment to ask. Not yet anyway.

It took her a considerable amount of effort to convince herself that it was bad timing and not hesitance that was stopping her from inquiring why Erza never showed up at the guild the night before. Or why she never answered her communication lacrima that morning. Or point out to her that she was wearing the exact same set of clothes from yesterday afternoon.

The service continued on. The chapel vibrated in mesmerizing hums of sung words and ear-pleasing chants. Sometime during the sermon two familiar shadows appeared in the doorway. The remaining members of Fairy Tail.

Natsu and Happy threaded silently towards the center, towards the wooden casket bundled in colorful flower arrangements. Happy placed the daisies at the base of the display before turning to Natsu and following him to the side where Erza stood with the rest.

"You're late," she mumbled out. There was no conviction in her voice, therefore Natsu didn't feel obliged to offer anything other than a simple grunt as a reply.

The rest of the ceremony passed without interruptions. When the priest closed his book and the last echo of his voice died down, he politely asked the chosen pallbearers and other attendees to help with transferring the flowers and casket.

Natsu and Lyon stepped forth, closely followed by Loke, Gajeel, Laxus and Elfman. The girls crowded around the center, taking the flowers and leaving the casket grim and bare, surrounded by loose flower-petals. Once the casket was carried out and everybody fell in line, the priest led them down the concrete path.

Gray followed behind them.

His feet faltered with every dozen steps, conflicted between keeping his distance and keeping up. The more ground they covered, the more he felt his chest tighten, like whatever it was that was supposed to be sending him oxygen suddenly broke down to bits and pieces. His breaths turned heavy and ragged and he didn't get why breathing suddenly hurt so much but it did even if it shouldn't have. Devastation was overcoming him strongly and painfully like a panic attack. Because beyond the rows of headstones they passed and the names that no longer mattered to the world, there was a bed carved into the ground waiting just for him. A new polished gravestone with his name ready to seal a deal he never willingly agreed to.

It was so unfair and cruel and too frighteningly final that he couldn't make himself step any closer.

He watched from afar how the coffin was lowered with deliberate slowness as if to torture him. How his friends' faces twisted and clouded over in grief. How Erza stood in front of them all, saying something he didn't hear because the stone beside her read '_Gray Fullbuster x__766__-x__791__, an irreplaceable friend and ally_' was ultimately the last drop.

His death was suddenly as real to him as it was for them.

His whole world was gone.

Just like that...

Everything he knew.

Everything he was.

_Gone._

The friends he wanted to spend more time with- _They can't see him. He can't tell them that-_The future he never figured out- _He no longer has it. He'll never __know__\- _Every today he lost because- _There were so many and he didn't- _The time he wasted- The words he never said- The heart he never gave away- The life he didn't live- _g__one gone g__**one gone gone go**__**NE GONE **__**GON**__**E**__** GONE!**_

_Everything. was.** gone.**_

The back of his throat burned. His whole body trembled. His bones shook into a million little pieces and_ it hurts, it hurts, everything hurts, _he opens his mouth to scream and all he hears is-

"That was beautiful."

He went rigid.

All the pain and agony rampaging within him froze in one cold stab of surprise.

Someone was beside him.

The rain started up again. Driblets of water pelted the ground in a slow rhythm. Anxious breath tickled his lungs and Gray hoped, really,_ really hoped,_ that the rule for vomiting applied to crying as well.

He turned around slowly, momentarily afraid of the shape he'd encounter, until he was met with wide green eyes instead of the hollow eye-sockets he expected.

The First smiled at him, "She really has a way with words, doesn't she?"

* * *

**I hope you liked this chapter, otherwise I'll just curl myself up into a burrito of sadness and never come out. I have put a LOT of time and effort in this, okay? And now that Mavis has entered the picture things can start getting serious. How serious? Seriously SERIOUS. O_O (that's my serious face)**

**Oh, and I simply have to ask, did anyone pick up on the word play in the title? Yes? No? It's okay, I wouldn't have noticed either. My puns are horrible. (What happens when a clock gets hungry? It goes back four seconds! :D )**

… **yeah, still horrible.**

**Oh, oh! One more thing! **

**Please, PLEASE, refrain from posting any comments, both hateful and overly pushy, regarding your opinions on religion. This is a work of fiction, not a debate blog... or youtube's comment section (*shudders* now there's a thought). If you feel the need to share, then please do share your opinions on the story itself, characters, developments or favorite parts. **

**Anything will do, all of your inputs are wonderful motivation. :)**

**Until the next update!**

**xMF**


	5. Chapter 5

**What's this? What's this? An update?! You can bet your butts it is! **

**Q****uick explanation for my oh so long absence: last year of college + too many hobbies and ideas + real life = a very busy and stressed out me.**

**'Thank you's to:** PokeTail, Viperhat, Koutei's Empress, AsDarknessSpreads, Ohgawd, Goffbey, AzureMarie, Kar Blackheart, Msknowitall451, Reeves-san, HJSDGCE, sparksinthenightsky, xAndromedaNiketax, Eraman, RizaWatson, Dragonspirit996, jazzmonkey, Katcchan and iLovMac **for either reviewing or adding me to your fave/follows! Each one of them means a lot to me and kept me motivated and encouraged and I'm so so SO sorry for not u****p****dating this story as often as I should. **

**W****ith that being said, ta-da! Feast your eyes on the story bellow!**

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather;

* * *

**Chapter 5**

The looks started when she entered the chapel. They haven't stopped since.

Erza knows she isn't imagining this. The lingering eyes, sharp and curious, looking for a crack they couldn't find. The glances, both uncertain and encouraging, needling her in the back of her head. She doesn't meet or respond to any of them. She doesn't let them know they're getting to her.

She does not let it show in her posture; her shoulders remain straight and firm like they always are.

She doesn't let it show in her steps; she's careful to keep them long and firm.

And she certainly doesn't let it show on her face when she finally stands in front of them all.

Maybe that's what, in the end, worried them the most. The almost professional distance she kept up throughout these two weeks. The calmness and composure she'd shown in the face of her teammate's- her _friend's-_death and funeral. They're all staring at her now, gazes of various intensity all saying in unison: _Don't choke_. And suddenly she's scared that she will.

Just how brave do you have to be to stand in front of a friend's grave, facing all his dear ones and be expected to do his memory justice?

Her palms started to sweat. "Gray Fullbuster was-"

The words almost stopped right then.

"...He was a valued member of Fairy Tail," she forced out. "He was a well respected mage, one of the best I knew and an exceptional teammate."

Another breath; another dull thud in her chest. _Come on._ "There were few people like him in the community... and there probably ever will be. We... can all recall a time when he... offered a helping hand or... inspired us to stay strong... stood by us."

Something was wrong. In her gut. In her throat. Something was very wrong. Why… why couldn't she talk?

The back of her neck was warming up making her feel dizzy. Suddenly the whole idea of breaking down in front of them all felt a mere breath away.

"But- But more than that, he was-"

Everyone was staring at her. Like the headstone behind her had suddenly come alive. Like it was a living, _breathing_ person, towering just above her. This both terrified and angered her. She had the whole speech memorized and ready. Why was this happening? What was wrong with her? Why can't she just say the damn words and get this over with and-

And something broke.

She stared at everyone.

They stared back.

...

"… he was my best friend."

She stood there a long moment. Silent. Ashamed. And in pain. No one said anything. No one moved. And somewhere in the back of her head she realized they were all waiting for her to deliver the rest of her speech.

But she didn't.

She _couldn't_.

Wordlessly, Erza stepped away from the headstone.

~~ (O) ~~

The First stared at him, the unnatural green of her eyes held him rooted to his spot.

Time stretched between them in uncounted raindrops and Gray, for the love of it, couldn't tell if he was staring too long or just imagining he was. His head was somewhere between being painfully empty and impossibly cluttered. He could feel his fingers trembling in the aftershock of his near-breakdown, the hot scream still lodged in his throat, waiting to be let out, and in the split moment she looks away- "Y-You can see me."

It escaped him before he could help it.

His voice was shrill with panic; he could hear it clearly in his- question? Statement? It didn't matter. He just needed her to confirm it.

"Of course I can," the first knot in his stomach untied. "Who did you think I was talking to?" she chuckled, all doe-eyed and smiling, "Myself?"

Her voice was unnaturally light. Casual. To his ears? Kind of condescending. But that didn't matter now. She could_ see_ him. She could actually see him and hear him and he clung to this like a straw. "H-How?"

She made a face instead of answering. A quick cheeky look that stated the obvious.

_Right._

She was a ghost. And, well, he was one too. It made sense.

She sat on top of a headstone at his side. The signature frilly dress she wore, pinkish and fluffy and untouched by the rain, stood out against the dreary colors around them. It surprised him how he hadn't noticed her earlier. Bony awkward legs peeked from underneath it, swinging childishly back and forth in a slow, casual rhythm. Somewhere while glazing over the roundness of her chubby cheeks and undeveloped face, some part of him couldn't help but notice... She looked younger than Wendy.

Something dark stirred inside him. But before he could let it fully sink in, there was a subtle change in her face. A flicker of an emotion he vaguely recognized but couldn't name. Curious, he looked up-

Dark suits and dresses fidgeted in place. A multitude of backs turned to him and her. And among them all-

_Loke? _

Gray blinked once. Twice. Not quite sure what he was seeing.

Blue-tinted glasses faced their direction, an unusual expression on his face. Something was crackling in the back of his head, like pieces of a puzzle being meshed together until they finally clicked. And when they did- His chest erupted. So suddenly, so strongly with something all too similar to joy, that it actually hurt. His breaths grew heavy and he felt so, so stupidly happy and_ relieved_ and like laughing all at the same time!

How- How the hell didn't he realize it sooner?

Loke was _a spirit_.

Something lit his eyes again. Something that had been ripped out of his chest and left to bleed out, to wither and suffocate and painfully die all on its own.

The sliver of hope he hadn't known he had.

And he didn't know how yet, but he could use this. This single opportunity could branch out, take shape into thousand possibilities he could use. And just knowing that, that there were options when he thought he had none, knowing that he had a way to hold onto his friends and family, made it so, so much easier to breathe. He finally felt like he had a chance. For the first time since this hellish clusterfuck of anguish and depression started, staring back at the blue-tinted lenses, Gray felt that he was going to be oka- "He can't see you."

He reeled back, eyes wide as they could get. "...B-But-" he glanced between them, head and heart stuttering in a jumble of _nononono- He's a spirit! He should- How-_

Mavis lifted her hand in demonstration and gently waved to the celestial spirit. Gray watched, heart clenching, as Loke's expression softened and with a short nod….

He turned his back to them.

He couldn't believe it...

"… sorry," she said, fingering the bow around her neck, "It… doesn't work like that."

Then _how_ did it work then? He wanted to ask. How the fuck did any of this work at all? But he bit his tongue, held himself back by a deathgrip and let out a simple, "… oh."

He remained quiet, let the silence envelop him and sink into his muscles, because he didn't want to lash out and he knew he would. And Gray Fullbuster didn't do that. Especially on little girls who did nothing wrong. So he shushed the angry, unwilling pulsing in his chest. He let the silence in. He let it pull away one thought at a time, strip him of feelings and hurt until he was well detached and numb. Until all that remained was a deep rooted sadness. Until every back turned to him lost its outline and turned into blurry dark shapes that melted into the background and all he could see was blackblackblack-

"How about we go for a walk?"

He hadn't noticed her move. Gray blinked down at smiling girl in front of him. "We shouldn't stay here very long."

He didn't understand what she meant by that, but he didn't ask why. He didn't care either.

~~ (O) ~~

If there was one thing that Gray started to appreciate about rain was the fact that it kept people inside. And that suited him just fine.

It was surreal though. Walking along the bare and empty street, hearing the rain, seeing it, knowing it's there, but not feeling it pelt against his head and shoulders. Like he was walking in the middle of an illusion that was missing that one little thing that would have made it perfect. Gray stared at his feet the whole way, gazing at the puddles he stepped in that didn't ripple under his weight. Occasionally he glanced up, keeping an eye on the little girl as she walked- correction, _skipped_ along a stone fence, just a few shy paces ahead of him.

Some responsible part of him, the only one that wasn't entirely numbed down, nagged him to tell her to get down before she slipped and- "Whoa!"

He looked up and blanched.

She stood on one foot teetering on the edge, fighting to balance herself.

The second he reached out for her- she righted herself with a relieved sigh. "Phew… close one," she grinned at him, "Heh, that would have_ not_ been a dignified fall."

Gray stared at her, clearly unamused. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," she shrugged, continuing to walk along the edge, "I just figured you needed to clear your head a bit." She paused and glanced over her shoulder, "...Is it working?"

He didn't know whether to lie to her or tell the truth. Both felt incredibly bothersome. It took him a moment to force an answer out. "I don't know..."

"...oh." She stopped, lowering her hands. Her face shifted into a troubled expression. Christ, he didn't want to deal with this.

"Sorry," Mavis said, "I… it's been a while. I forgot what a shock this must be for you. Dying, I mean."

Something nicked at him from the inside when she said 'dying', unpleasant and simmering under crusted and dead layers of emotions.

"I know it's not easy," she looked up at him from under her lashes, "And that you probably have a lot of questions about... this. So just… ask whatever you want, and I'll try to answer the best that I can, okay?"

The teen stared at her, before nodding slowly. Her face split into a brilliant smile and Mavis sat down on the fence, patting the spot next to her. With a sigh Gray moved next to her and leaned onto his elbows to overlook the river. He was silent for a good while, gazing into the violent ripples down bellow them. He didn't know what to ask her, and honestly? He didn't _want_ to ask her anything. He didn't want to think about anything. He didn't want to talk or share his feelings or try to figure this out. He didn't want to do anything. He just wanted to stand there in silence and stare at…

Oh. His reflection was missing.

"Is this it?"

She was staring at him. "That's a little vague, don't you think?"

"I mean _this_," he gestured around, "The afterlife. Being dead. However you wanna word it. Is this all there is to it?"

"What?" she smiled, "Were you expecting a trial for your soul? God? Some deity passing judgment on you?"

"No," he scoffed, "Just… not this."

There was a short pause.

"Well, no. Not in the sense that you're thinking."

When she didn't explain, he looked up at her. Mavis shifted uncomfortably under his stare and made a face. Oh this was gonna be a doozy. "Ummm, yes, there is _technically_ an afterlife; a realm, like the Celestial Spirit one, only meant for souls like you and me. But, um, how do I put this?" She bit her lip and her brows tensed in thought, "Umm, getting there iiiis _kind of_ open for interpretation."

He frowned. "Open for interpretation?"

"It's, ummm..." A sigh. "I'm not quite sure, okay?" she admitted with not-quite-a-pout-but-fairly-close.

That… kind of surprised him honestly.

"From what I've gathered," she continued, swinging her feet back and forth, staring at the tips of her toes as she did, "It's different for everybody. Sometimes it happens when you resolve some issue, sometimes it's when you have an epiphany or see somebody happy or you yourself feel content. And sometimes..."

She paused, "Well... Sometimes you're just left to wonder."

Gray didn't say anything.

That dark feeling was back. Dense and warm and comforting in the strangest way. Like a heavy blanked draped over a victim's shoulders in compassion. Gray looked ahead of him, mulling over her words with his eyes trained on the horizon of dark rooftops and ashen clouds.

"I tried to find you, you know?" she said suddenly, almost shyly, "When I found out I mean."

There were glimpses of unspoken relief and loneliness in the small spaces between her words. And in some ways, he thought he understood it.

"...I went home," he confessed, entwining his fingers tightly.

"Oh, I see," she said with a little hum, leaning back in thought and swinging her feet again, "It must have been hard to handle."

He tried not flinch. Handle? Who said he did? Who could handle that? Seeing himself- Seeing his friends, his loved ones- so many eyes gawking at those bits and pieces- _That's him, right there, that'__s what's left__-_And then the screaming-

He gave a quick noncommittal shrug, half of it an answer and half an attempt to shake off the memory. Something still pricked him at the back of his skull. An undefined thought, cold and nagging. Something important. He didn't want to deal with it. "So what happens now?" he asked.

Mavis hummed, before jumping down onto her feet. "Well, if I were you, I'd start contemplating on what's holding you here."

_Oh joy._ Gray huffed and turned towards her. "And what are you going to do?"

"Dunno," she shrugged, "Probably go back to the guildhall? See how everyone is doing?"

For a stuttering moment, he tensed up. "… Oh."

The image of his friends, huddled around his gravestone, heads bent and grieving, came rushing back. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. The pain was back, sharp and pulsing like a barely formed crust that was ripped off and bleeding again.

He wanted to see them. To be _seen_ by them. To talk to them.

And staring at the First, maybe he could. Sure, she wasn't Loke, and they've only met her recently. But knowing that she was visible to them as much as he was to her made whole situation a little less bleaker. It would be awkward as all hell. And it definitely wouldn't be pleasant or easy.

But, much like a moth to a flame, suicidal and yearning, he had decided. "I'll come with."

She paused for a moment, sizing him up. Her face turned uneasy. "I… don't think that's a good idea."

He arched an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Well," she bit her lip, looking to the side, "Mostly because of those."

~~ ( O ) ~~

He didn't see it at first.

He saw an empty little square. A line of shops with little to no business because of the weather. A cafe, a bakery, a butcher shop, a clothing store, a post office. He wasn't sure _what _she was looking at. But then he felt it.

A chill. Like a deadman's breath inside a morgue, light as fog and vile as smoke. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His skin prickled with a low and thrumming sensation.

Something was staring at him.

His muscles tensed and Gray held his breath. He recognized this feeling: the whisper of intent. A warning vibrating through the air and coming from a single narrow alley in between shops. He sized it up and it was of no comfort that it felt like whatever was staring at him was doing the same. And then he saw it.

The wavering motion of air. The swaying tendrils that blurred like cigarette smoke. Grainy black dots drifting around them like ashes come to life. A shape darker than the shadows it was hiding in.

"What… what is that?" he stepped back, fist clenched and ready for action.

Mavis calmly stared at it, her expression stern and challenging. And wasn't that quite a feat for a 13-year old face with lingering baby-fat on her cheeks.

"Someone who's not very happy," she mumbled and in response the swirling dark threads sped up, whipping around in quick and short movements.

But it didn't attack.

It stayed right on the edge of the alley, glaring and hissing? growling?- at them. He didn't find in very comforting. He could feel its eyes on them, yet he couldn't see anything remotely similar to eyes on it. It was just... a dark shape, with blurry edges, surrounded in what looked like smoke and sand caught in an angry cluster.

"Sorry," Mavis smiled apologetically at him, "I almost forgot to warn you about them."

Gray glanced between her and… whatever the hell that thing was.

"Come on," she said suddenly, linking her hands behind her back, "I'll walk you home."

Before he could react she started walking. With a jolt and a final uneasy glace towards the shape, he followed after her. Anxiety nipped at him. Suddenly he was hyper-aware of the dark nooks and crannies they passed, the secluded alleys, the shadowy shapes he either really saw or imagined scurry or slither away. It was freaking unnerving.

"Was that a ghost?" he asked, not daring to look away. _Like me?_

"… In a sense."

His stomach clenched. Was that a yes or a no? It sounded like a yes.

"Are they dangerous?" His breath hitched. Another dark shape stood openly in the middle of the street, just a short few feet away from them. And Mavis casually walked towards it.

"They can be," she nodded.

He held his breath, a warning caught in his throat and watched her... nonchalantly stroll pass it? What in the-?

She continued on, oblivious to the fact that he wasn't following her. _Seriously?!_ The thing, _ghost_, whatever it was, was staring at him now. Gray warily stared back. When it did nothing, he clenched his fists and power-walked past it. He kept his eye on it over his shoulder until they where far away enough to put him at ease.

"And they're lurking around the guild? Is that what you're saying?" he asked anxiously once he caught up with her.

"Yep, most likely."

_Most likely? _His eyes widened. What the heck did she mean by most likely?! His friends were there! Were they dangerous or not?! "Do you always give three-worded vague answers?" he bit out.

She suddenly stopped and Gray tensed up, briefly worried about the tone he used. "...Why'd you stop?"

Mavis turned around slowly and looked at him wide-eyed. "… I don't know where you live."

He stared at her, appalled and slack-jawed.

"What?" she blinked.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. She was a kid, he reminded himself. A 118-year-old dead kid, but a kid nonetheless and he_ shouldn't_ yell at her. It was easy to forget how air-headed and carefree she was at times. With a deep breath, he collected himself as best as he could. "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, I'm sorry," a pause, "What was the question again?"

He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, "You said I shouldn't go to the guild because of those. _Why?_"

"Oh! Right," she cleared her throat, "Well, um, when I said that they can be _dangerous_, I meant, well, for you, that is. They can't hurt the living." He felt himself relax when she said that. "But they_ can_ feed off of them."

His frowned, "Feed?"

"Yeah," they both glanced at the dark form they passed. Her voice turned soft, sounding almost apologetic. "They feed on negative energy. Emotions like jealousy, anger, depression-"

"Grief?" he supplied somberly.

He didn't need to see her nod to connect the dots.

Gray rubbed his temples. He imagined the guildhall littered with those things, with shadowy figures clinging to his friends and _leeching_ off of them. The very idea was so revolting to him that he was already seething. He wanted to march down there right this moment and- and what? Watch his friends cry? Watch them grieve and mourn while those things lapped it all up like a fucking buffet? Could he hit them? Oh, he hoped he could hit them. He would enjoying beating the shit out of each one he found there because this sudden wave of anger and guilt felt too much like he was back at the graveyard, helpless and useless and he did that, his friends were crying and he did that and he didn't know how to fix it, how to stop it, how to change it and he's sorry, he's so sorry and alone and-

Warmth suddenly spread across his arm. The sensation had become so unfamiliar to him so fast that it startled him. He looked down to two deep green eyes gazing up at him.

"The best course of action now would be to get you home, Gray," she said slowly, gently, slowing down his thoughts and feelings to a manageable pace with her voice. "It's the safest place for you now," she continued with a comforting smile that was so familiar (_-__ a silhouette, slim and delicate, __sunlight and humming-_) that he believed her. "At least until the guild clears up and I chase those things off."

He wasn't really thinking when he asked her, "You can do that?"

She nodded, "Of course. So how about you come over sometime after midnight and we'll figure something out, okay?"

When he breathed out a shaky "Okay" she smiled widely at him again.

"Okay, now which way to your house?"

With a tired glance around them, he pointed to the direction he deduced his house was at.

"That way it is then!" she chirped and Gray could swear to the Maker that there was some sparkly glow around her.

~~ (O) ~~

Once they had reached his home, Mavis waved Gray goodbye and left him on his own. She skipped her way back, humming a tune that altered every few seconds, and making sure she jumped into every puddle she came across. They never splashed of course, but she did it anyway, connecting them all in a sequence like a hopscotch game. Before long she stood in front Fairy Tail's building.

A shadow, small and jittery, stood in front of the double doors left ajar, peeking inside. Mavis smiled and casually walked over to it. It didn't seem to notice her until she crouched down next to it. With a jerk, it stared at her, still and tense, observing for the slightest tell of movement in her muscles and the amusement shinning brightly in her eyes.

"Boo!" It ran away before she could blink.

With a giggle, the girl stood up and phased through the doors.

It took her a split second to take a look around. She clicked her tongue. Just as she had predicted.

A dozen or so shadowy figures strolled around the guildhall. Most of them were small, no bigger than a medium-sized dog. They lingered under occupied tables and chairs or clung like cobwebs to the dark corners around the ceiling and pillars. The smaller ones were never a problem. That was, unless there was a lot of them and 'a lot' meant at least twice as many as there were here. It wasn't as bad as she imagined it would be.

She felt a prick then, cold and hostile, like a snarl aimed specifically at her. Her brow twitched. _He__'s__ still here? _

Just as the feeling came, it disappeared, wafted out like a bad smell.

"Stubborn fucker," a familiar voice said and Mavis relaxed, "I didn't think you'd attend the funeral. Or come here with all these around."

Mavis smiled, glad to see the lion spirit sitting at the end of the bar and sipping his beer. "It would have been wrong not to. Besides, there aren't that many around."

Loke scoffed lightly, "For a good reason. Just because I don't see them in this form, doesn't mean I can't feel them."

"I should be fine here then, right?" Mavis eagerly climbed onto the stool next to him and closed her eyes. Loke smiled lightly as the little spirit sighed in content, drinking in the warm hums of energy radiating from him. This was the difference between normal spirits and Celestial ones.

Celestial beings were always warm. They were pillars that guided and sailed souls along the astral rivers. They were guardians that protected them. They were distant relatives of the soul, not the body. Whether they took human forms or not, Celestial Spirits always radiated with a type of energy akin to a moderately hot heater. Whereas a clean soul, human or otherwise, was as cold as the body it left behind in the dirt. It was as aimless and unanchored as a dust particle. It was easily caught up in a whirl of emotions. It was as easily affected as white paint, losing its tone from the smallest swirl of colour mixed in.

"Well, for now, anyway," Loke said in a serious voice, staring intensely at foamy bubbles in his glass, popping away. "He's gonna come back, you know."

"I know," she sighed and slowly opened her eyes. She looked along the tables and the people occupying them. The dark clothes and exhausted red-rimmed eyes. She watched, drunk on warmth, as the shadows stirred and enjoyed their own meal. How they sighed and whispered and echoed back to the people who grieved and wiped at their eyes.

So many dark shades were moving around her home.

"How long do you plan on staying?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, before admitting regretfully. "I have until the end of the day," he downed half of his glass in a single swing and sighed deeply, "Spirit contracts and all that."

"Ah," she said, closing her eyes again and leaning closer to him.

"I suspect it will get worse once I leave." A hesitant pause. "...Will you be okay?"

Mavis chuckled, amusement mixing in with fondness. "I have been for the last ninety-four years," she flashed him a brilliant smile, "Though thank you for your concern, I appreciate it."

Loke stared at her, momentarily startled, before chuckling slightly. "Sorry, its still kind of amazing to me," he admitted. And it was. Finding a spirit, as pure and strong as hers, still roaming the land of the living, unchanging and true.

No wonder the guild always gave off a peculiar warm and energetic vibe when one entered it.

They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the low murmur of chatter around them. Mavis still relished in the warmth emitting from the Celestial Spirit, while Loke sipped on his beer and eyed the little phantoms trying to keep their distance from them.

"Hey," he spoke up suddenly.

Mavis hummed in response.

"That soul you were with at the funeral, was that...?"

Mavis looked up at him, smile light and gentle as child's. She fiddled with the bow around the neck.

"No," she said sadly, "Sorry. It was just another lost soul."

Loke sighed, while Mavis scooted closer to him.

"I haven't seen Gray at all."

* * *

**Reader be like: Mavis says whaaaaaaat?**

**Am I right? Wrong? Let me know. Reviews keep me motivated. Oh! And hey, wanna know something fun? **

**_*whispers* _I'm sticking to cannon information.**

**Let the conspiracy theories begin! Nyeh heh heh…**

**Until the next update!**

**xMF**


	6. Chapter 6

**Warning: long-ish AN ahead!**

**So yeah, that was a faster update than usual. Well that's due to me deciding on a few changes. Such as: shorter chapters! That means faster updates. (Yay!) So why? Well I am very, very aware that one of my major weakpoints when writing is _'flowering everything up' _as I like to call it. In short: too many descriptions and unneeded adjectives, like all those classic Russian writers and ain't nobody got time for that!**

**So, I'm trying (key word 'trying') to overcome this and push the plot in a manageable pace without completely forsaking the beauty of words and writing. Also my will and motivation can only be pointed in solely one direction for so long (meaning on a single story/idea) before I will inevitably desperately want to make another one. If I feel like I'm wasting my time or like no one is reading my work I usually lose interest in it and most likely drop the story and move onto the next one. That's why I am so so SO grateful to everyone who took their time to comment or put me on their alerts and favorites. I always go back to re-read those and feel like I'm not just wasting my time. So again, thank you:** GoldenPiggy, Kori no Koibito, LadyGlitchy, chemical violets, Bubble, Jazzmonkey, timothy. nguyen. 73, tokicham and MiniMcGiggles** and everyone else who's lurking in the background.**

**Also! Replies to all the anonymous reviews will be on my profile page!**

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather;

* * *

**Chapter 6**

"_Gray Fullbuster was a valued member of Fairy Tail,_" it said in neat elegant writing.

"_He was a well respected mage, one of the best I knew and an exceptional teammate. There were few people like him in the community and there probably ever will be," _the unspoken words rolled around her tongue.

"_We can all recall a time when he offered a helping hand or inspired us to stay strong, stood by us,_" the paper crinkled underneath her fingertips.

"_But more than that, he was a person who you could always count on to do the right thing._"

How stupid.

With a sigh, Erza stuffed the paper deep in her pocket and dug her fork into her cake.

She had spent the rest of the funeral silent, sorting her head out (without actually sorting it out) and not really seeing the coffin being buried. And now here she was, alone, sitting secluded at one of the farthest tables in the guild.

The looks were back.

More probing, still nosy and much harder to catch than before. They picked at her skin and she was getting tired of them following her so closely in that sympathetic perversion of understanding. She tried to catch them, meet them head on and face those worried frowns, confused and condoling eyes with her own flaring _I am fine_ and dare them to say otherwise. Yet somehow she always seemed to be a second too late. By the time she looked up, the intruding eyes were already pointed elsewhere.

Anger passed over her with a wave of freshly arisen goosebumps.

She stabbed away at her desert, longing for her armor, wishing that people had the common decency of saying their pieces and going about their ways already. Her pocket felt heavy, weighted down with words and syllables of her speech. The one she spent hours writing and rewriting, memorizing forwards and backwards, only to choke after the first paragraph.

But that didn't matter. It didn't matter because through the fog clouding her head, beyond the pain in her chest that pulsed like an open wound, a single realization stood clear.

_It isn't enough._

That one sentence, no longer than three damn words, was more shameful, more hurtful, was more _everything_ than anything all those looks could have possibly made her feel.

And how could it be? Nothing would be enough!

How did one summarize the existence and significance of a person in a few short paragraphs? Limit their life and everything they were within borderlines and dots? How could she explain Gray's significance- to her, to them, and allow their friendship to be cut and shaped by mere words, trapped in the curve of a letter and the glaring hollows between the words.

And suddenly, it felt like betrayal.

That speech she had so _professionally_ prepared. The words she used: _v__alued member, __r__espected mage, __e__xceptional teammate, _so courteous, so impersonal and distant, like she had spat right in the face of their friendship.

It. _Wasn't._ **Enough.**

"Don't seem to have much of an appetite, do you my dear?" the stool beside creaked and Erza tensed.

"Can't say that I blame you," said Master Makarov, sitting down with his pipe in hand. "Funerals are never pleasant."

She bit on the inside of her cheek, staring at the mushy substance of squashed strawberries and cake-sponge in her plate.

She didn't dare look at him. She couldn't. Her hand curled into a fist as her anger turned to shame. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. All she could think of saying is: "I'm sorry-" For writing such a bad speech. For not knowing what to say. For slipping up when he needed her to be strong. For wasting a cake made just for her. For being late. For not getting it right. For feeling like this, for failing her team, for failing him, them, Gray and she's sorry for not being stronger she's sorry she's sorry-

Pressure built behind her eyes. Her mouth was overflowing with words and apologies and despite saying nothing at all, the short man still somehow caught all of it.

Thin, bumpy fingers rested on top of hers and Erza tried not to tense up. "Don't fret over it my dear. Times like these… are difficult," he said, voice gruff years of smoking and yet still oddly comforting. The underside of his palm was warm against her knuckles and she couldn't help but get lost in the sunspots scattered across the back of his hand. "Everybody knows the details. Knows the how, the where and when. But nobody ever knows what to say."

Her lips were pressed into a thin line. Background chatter filled his pause. A wisp of smoke left his lips.

"...And that's alright, Erza."

The moment her name left his mouth she looked up at him, eyes wide and uncomprehending, like she was eleven all over again, lost and feeling the weight of the world on her shoulders. Makarov's eyes were pointed elsewhere. She followed them and found her teammates. Natsu, stoic and far too silent at a far off corner of the guild. Lucy, adorned in fake smiles and surrounded by people.

"You don't find comfort and closure in words, my dear. You find it in the people who care. Who love and hurt just as much as you do."

Something twists in her stomach. It's painful and raw and too close to home-

But Erza Scarlet was no stranger to pain.

_Walk it off._

Her expression changed. In that split second her eyes cleared up and with her back just a little bit straighter, she said, "We'll be okay."

And they would be. Eventually. The pain would fade in time, the wound would crust over, scar the flesh, but at least it wouldn't bleed anymore. She'll- _T__hey_ will find a way to be okay with it. _They_ just needed time and each other.

"Tragedy is new territory with no guide, my child," he said carefully, eyeing her from the corner of his eyes. "You'd be surprised at all the new ways you can get lost."

Erza nodded, scooping up some of the mushy cake on her fork.

She knew this. Loss wasn't new to her. She won't let them get lost. She won't let them fall apart. She'll make sure they get through this. Together.

For Gray.

She won't fail this time.

~~ ( O ) ~~

For a long while... he kind of shut down.

He sat at the bar, head in one hand while the other absentmindedly scratched Happy behind the ears, and stared at some irrelevant corner without really seeing it. The background noise, loud and obnoxious as it was, slowly faded until all he could hear was the slow, drawn out purring.

Suddenly there was a long scraping sound. Sliding over the wooden surface and stopping just an elbow away from him.

"Drink," a voice said sternly. Nastu blinked in confusion at the glass of beer presented to him. He looked up, brown met black and neither moved for a while. Cana was conveying a silent message to him through her eyes alone, one he wasn't fully getting. So he stared back at her, deciphering the bits and pieces he could put together until he got a fraction of the picture.

She was sharing her way of dealing with the funeral. Telling him that it was okay to get wasted, that it was okay not to be okay and drink himself into numbness if he didn't know what else to do.

And as nice as that was (coming from the card-mage herself), Natsu didn't want to drink. He didn't want to shrug off the weight in his mind. He didn't want to escape it and leave it for the dizzy absence of thoughts and drift without an anchor. It would muddle his head, make him lose his grip, make him slip up, and he couldn't do that. He needed to solve this. He needed his mind clear. He needed- "Thanks."

Her jaw relaxed, and he knew he made the right call. And even as she nodded and turned away, Natsu knew she would be glancing his way occasionally. She was far from naive, but so was Natsu.

Her heels clicked against the wooden floor-boards and Happy wrinkled his snout.

"Don't worry," Natsu said, patting him on the head. The Exceed glanced up at him, worried.

"You didn't eat today."

The glass stopped inches from his mouth and he remembered.

Two plates set that morning. Only one ended up in the sink.

Happy had said nothing.

The glass was cold beneath his fingers.

"You're right," he frowned, putting it back down. "… Mind getting me something?"

Happy's ears twitched and he looked up at him, eyes wide and just a little bit surprised to see a soft and apologetic expression on Natsu's face.

"...Okay."

The Exceed hopped off the table, unaware that the further he walked away, the more Natsu's expression turned grim.

He tilted his glass around, careful not to spill it and-

"You had the right idea," a rough voice said and Natsu's shoulders tensed. Gajeel leaned with his back onto the bar, loosening the tie around his neck. "Never should've put this blasted thing on."

Natsu hummed in response and waited.

Gajeel untied his hair and ruffled it back into its natural untidy state. "Ya know... I never understood what Juvia saw in him," he said. Natsu's grip on the glass tightened, when the other slayer huffed. "_Sure_, he was strong, but he was dull as all hell if you left out that dumb stripping habit."

The muscles in Natsu's hands clenched as he listened on.

"Never threw the first punch. Never involved himself unless necessary. Never talkative, mostly indifferent, sticking to his own thing, doing whatever the fuck he wanted. Thought Juvia reached a new level of crazy when she picked him of all people."

A part of Natsu felt like promptly smashing his glass against Gajeel's head. The other half was simmering and a hair's breath away from growling._ Get to the fucking point you- _"But that's twice that he saved her."

And whatever insult he had died on his tongue.

"I owe him," said the taller slayer, pausing to look at the little blue Exceed on the other side of the room. "So when you need to... find me. Don't make him worry about you."

His hold on the glass slackened, and something unpleasant rolled around Natsu's stomach. He needed to get a grip on himself, because this wasn't working.

He thought he could pick up one thought at a time, like a misplaced item, and carefully hide them behind a door in his mind where no one would know they was there until he dealt with them. Except, the lock didn't work and everything came tumbling out in a mess when he least expected it. Images and words flooded his mind, cold and biting and _complete bullshit_, and he refused to accept them in any way, shape or form. And that's where the problem was.

They refused to be shunned, refused to be ignored and just kept piling up until all the images overlapped and mixed and he couldn't make out heads from tails anymore, up from down, accusations from facts. And that was no good.

"What would you do?" he asked.

"About what?"

~~ (O) ~~

Gajeel was rarely, if ever, shocked into stillness.

The silence that surrounded them was stifling. He was used to those when he was undercover, surrounded by dark-mages, murderers and psychopaths. That was when his instincts flared and he knew he was either outed or something was terribly wrong and shit was about to get real. Those moments were far and few between and he could count them all on a single hand. Otherwise they didn't happen. Period.

And yet there it was. Cold anxiety creeping up his back. Adrenaline slipping into his veins. Uncertainty prickling at his mind because Gajeel wasn't sure if he completely understood the question or missed it entirely. He turned slowly to look at Salamander, red eyes watchful and calculating, expecting him to see anything but an expression that mirrored his own.

Natsu was not the emotionally sharing type. Gajeel was not the emotionally comforting type.

Those were facts.

Both knew not to throw words around, since they meant jack-shit to both of them. Natsu didn't ask for comfort. Gajeel didn't offer it.

But when he asked-

"What would you do if Pantherlily died?"

Gajeel got a bad feeling.

Natsu Dragneel_did not_ ask those kinds of questions. Ever. And if he did, they would have not been aimed at him. Gajeel either snarked or didn't care at all. Because that's what Garjeel did. He didn't frolic around, or flower shit up or beat around the bush unless it involved actual beating up. He was blunt and to the point. He stated cold, hard facts, that nobody wanted to hear.

"Easy," he said after a quick inner-debate and leaned onto the bar with his elbow, never breaking eye contact.

"Kill the bastard responsible."

The pause that followed was as heavy and cold as the iron he wielded. And Gajeel, teeth bared and growling, used it to punctuate his words, "But... _that_is what **I** would do."

The air around them pulsed in subtle warning, underlining his message. Neither moved. Neither looked away.

And then Natsu snorted.

"You're full of it," he said, turning and taking a long sip from his glass.

The muscles in his hands relaxed and Gajeel leaned off the bar, scowling and looking elsewhere. "Che, you're one to talk."

The anxiety he felt slowly slipped away and the moment he saw Happy making his way back with a big tray of food, Gajeel straightened up.

"You know where to find me."

And he did. Gajeel was rarely elsewhere now.

~~ ( O ) ~~

He'd been staring at the door for good 10 minutes now. Not that he noticed. He was too busy debating whether to knock on the door or just go in. Turns out, he didn't have to chose. It opened on its own.

"Lyon-san?"

Lyon tensed up. "Oh W-Wendy, hi," he said trying to hide his surprise. "I, um, didn't know anyone was in there."

The petite girl offered him a hollow but polite smile, as if she hadn't known he'd been standing there all along. "Would you like to come in?" She moved to the side, revealing the foot of an occupied bed.

A lump formed in his throat. With a slow nod, he stepped inside. He had been preparing for this moment, dreading and yearning it at the same time. The image his head conjured up: a frail body, pale and slim, hooked up to all sorts of machines and tubes and needles in order to keep it alive, had been haunting him for the last two weeks. It was relieving to know he was wrong.

No wonder they kept telling him that she was sleeping.

He would have thought the same thing had there not been a heart-monitor softly beeping away and an IV attached to Juvia's arm. She looked like she was just dozing away, tucked in and warm; not in a coma, lost to the world and everyone around her.

"How is she?" he asked, standing right beside the bed.

Wendy glanced his way from the opposite side, before looking away with a deep sadness in her eyes. "...She used a lot of magic power Lyon-san," she said after a short while, replacing the old IV bag with a new one and turning her back to him. "… She used so much to the point where she forced her Ethernano to produce magic power from her own life-force."

A jolt went down his spine at the words.

"Grandeeney and I," she sniffed lightly and wiped at her eyes. "We… We did everything we could to stabilize her and replenish her ethernano and magic power but-"

Lyon's fists clenched.

"We… We don't know when she'll wake up."

The words were as painful as he imagined them to be. Heavy and horrible in all their uncertainty and truth. But at least they weren't hopeless. She never did say that Juvia _wouldn't_ wake up. And maybe he was just grasping at straws here, and maybe he was being pathetically optimistic, but Lyon had waited ten years to face Deliora, another seven to prove that his faith in Gray and Fairy Tail's return wasn't misplaced. He would have no trouble waiting for the girl he loved to wake up.

His lips pressed into a thin line and he looked down at her. At the round and relaxed face, at the long black lashes that rested easy on top of her cheeks, at smooth and pale cheeks, free of scrapes and cuts from the GMG battles, void of lines jutting around her mouth, contouring her face with rage and agony as she howled and wailed.

And then he suddenly remembers another face. Young and sniveling, hanging from his grip, staring up at him-

"Could you notify me when she wakes up? Or if there are any changes?"

Wendy turned to him, surprised, and a little embarrassed, how his face was the semblance of control, whereas she was tearing up again. There was no trace of grief on his face, no regret weighting his brows, just hard set determination deep in his eyes. She nodded hesitantly. "I, um, can pass it to Chelia. She gave me her address after the games."

"Please do," he said, putting his hand over Juvia's and gazing down at her. The room fell silent and Wendy shifted uncomfortably.

"Are you staying in Magnolia?" she asked.

"Just for tonight," he said without looking up, "We'll be leaving first thing tomorrow morning."

"Oh," she said, a little disappointed. In the next moment the door opened.

"Oi, short stuff, I'm ba-" Gajeel stopped mid-sentence, eyes landing on the surprised ice-mage. "Oh," he said, surveying the room. "Didn't know ya had company."

Lyon subtly removed his hand from Juvia's and turned to face the slayer. "I was just leaving."

Gajeel raised an eyebrow, but slowly moved out of the way to let him pass. He was just in front of the door when he suddenly stopped.

"Wendy."

The girl's attention snapped to the ice-mage lingering at the door.

"… Thank you."

Wendy smiled at him with Gajeel by her side. When he was sure that the mage was out of earshot the slayer leaned down.

"He didn't do anything weird, did he?"

~~ ( O ) ~~

He was going down the staircase when he half-heard- "There you are."

Lyon looked down and saw his guildmate, Jura Neekis, waiting at the bottom of the stairs. "I've been looking for you," said the man, holding up his coat and umbrella. "Most of our members have gone back to the hotel. I was just about to head there myself."

Lyon gave a distant 'hmmm' and gazed at the remaining people on the ground floor. True to his word, most of the guests including Lamia Scale's members have already left, leaving empty cups and plates near their vacant seats. Every Fairy Tail member was still present though; huddled together and sullen, but still drinking quietly next to each other. And then there was Gray's team.

"Do you want to stay for a while longer?"

"...No," he said, taking his coat and umbrella from the taller man. "Let's go."

Their goodbyes were quick and effortless. And within a moment's notice they were both outside, opening their umbrellas.

"You have that look on your face," the Wizard saint said suddenly.

Lyon stared straight ahead of him. "...What look?"

Jura sighed. "We all know he meant to you more than you'd let yourself admit."

The ice-mage didn't have an adequate response to that.

"All I'm saying is," the taller man said, "You don't have to deal with it alone... You can talk to us."

"Jura," the other responded, "You don't know much about me before I entered Lamia Scale, do you?"

If the man was surprised by this question, he didn't show it. He said nothing for a while, contemplating the question while surrounded by a fragile type of silence where they were stripped of their professional ranks.

Here were now just two people, who knew the other person as much as they didn't.

* * *

**(Buzz Lightyear pose) Subtext, subtext everywhere~**

**So I hope you were not terribly bored reading this. I know it may seem like nothing is happening now, but mark my words, the pieces are just being set up. Can you see them? Can you see the cogs turning? Do any of you have the slightest idea what a horrible human being I am? No? **

**In other news, for those who hadn't noticed, look! I drew a cover for the story! And although it's not all that impressive you can get a better look at it on my deviantart (link is in my profile). I also happen to be working on a playlist for the first part of the story. So if you guys have any songs that remind you of these first chapters, revolving around denial and depression, let me know, I'm running low on sad songs.**

**Anywho, review, fave, gimme a muffin!**

**Until the next update,**

**xMF**


	7. Chapter 7

**Got this one written way faster than I thought I would, so I'm feeling good! **

**Special thank you's to:** Misasha-x, Kori no Koibito and Akami, **who took their time to review and fave, I award thee with a smiley! :D **

**Name:** Sole Duty (Fairy Tail fic)

**Summary:** What is called a reason for living is also a reason for dying. Now if they could all just remember that. [Chapter 334. Alternate Timeline]

**Genre:** Tragedy, Friendship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Drama;

**Chars:** Gray F, Mavis V, Team Natsu;

**Rating:** T

**Beta: **LovelyWeather;

* * *

**Chapter 7**

The only time Fairy Tail's guild was truly quiet was after hours. When the lights were off and a certain type of hush fell over the place, as if the building itself had released an exhausted sigh and called it in for the day. No one sat or made noise at the bar, no one loitered in the hallways or started spontaneous fights, no one disturbed the silence.

And then there was a light snore.

A phantom, a small thing it was, no bigger than a rat, crawled under the door of the guildmaster's office. It slithered onto the table, cluttered with papers and books and bills and a single bottle of fine whiskey, now empty, standing right next to its slumbering owner. The shadow listened to him breathe, in and out, slowly, the tinge of alcohol on his breath, until it eventually heard what it needed.

"_**m**__Y...__C__**hi**__Ld__**r**__**E**__n_," it gurgled, voice thin and uneven, "_**on**__E__ o__**f**__... __**m**__Y...__**C**__hi__**L**__**d**__r__E__n __( __gone __gone gone)..._"

The man's brow knitted together and the little black mass crawled closer. "_**Wh**__A__**T**__ a... __b__**A**__d__(bad bad bad) __**P**__**a**__r__**E**__n__**T**__,_" thin black threads came alive, drifting around it excitedly, "_l__**eT**__**h**__Is... C__**hi**__L__**d**__**D**__i__**E**__... s__**O**__ y__**O**__u__**nG**__… s__**O**__ s__**M**__a__**LL**__… (remember?)_"

Makarov's back tensed and he mumbled something unintelligibly in his sleep. Smoky limbs reached out to him, "_**h**__E w__**A**__s __**O**__nL__**y**__ t__**E**__n… __**j**__U__**S**__t a __**C**__hi__**Ld**__ (now dead dead dead)- __**n**__O Fu__**T**__ur__**E**__ ... y__**o**__Ur c__**H**__il__**D**__r__**en**__… y__**O**__u__**R**__ rE__**Sp**__oNs__**iB**__ili__**T**__y… W__**h**__a__**T**__ h__**Av**__e__ I __(yessssss you you all __you__) dO__**N**__e? __**h**__E w__A__**s**__… a __**cH**__iL__**d**__… rem- __**EEEK**__**!**__"_

The room spun around, everything tilted up-side down and the phantom found itself staring into the clearly upset face of Mavis Vermilion. She held it up by the tips of her fingers, like one would hold a dirty pair of underwear, and she looked at it in the same regard.

"_-__U__**Rn**__sB__**U**__r__**nSB**__u__R__**N**__**n**__S__**IT**__**B**__**u**__**RRR**__**rr**__**NS**__**!**_" it squealed and wiggled.

She contemplated what to do with it, weighting her morals against the actions of the leech in her grasp with bored indifference. In the moment it gave a particular painful screech, she sighed and dropped it. "Scram."

The second it hit the floor it scrambled away.

Mavis wiped her hand and turned back to the table, checking over the man frowning and mumbling in his sleep.

She carefully looked over his features, over the receding hair, the wrinkles lined up on his forehead and laugh-lines, the foreign whiteness of his mustache, the bags under his eyes; and despite it all she could still make out the boy she remembered him as from so long ago, looking up at her with wide and amazed eyes, asking if she was a fairy and if she could grant him his wish.

The memory made her smile and she laid her head down next to his. She lifted her hand, inching it closer to his cheek until it looked like she was touching it. He muttered something again, brows furrowing and his hands curling into fists.

"Oh, sweetheart, shhh," she coed, pretending to stroke the side of his head. "It's okay. Shhhh, now. You did good."

It was so subtle, the way her skin started to glimmer. How she gently lit up, glowing like a candle in a bright yet delicate way, as if her skin was made out of golden fairy dust, sprinkling the air around her.

"You've watched over them so well," she whispered affectionately, "You gave them a home, guided and protected them, loved them as if they were your own… I am so proud of you Makarov… We all are." Her eyes softened and she hummed deeply in her lungs. The soothing sound faded into the calm, weaved itself into the silence of their private moment.

She gazed at him, both wistful and amazed, at his soft life, at the dreams on his eyelids, neverchanging, uniquely his. A ripple of giggles and small pattering steps echoed in her ear as Mavis remembered him, small and clumsy, chasing after her and trying to grasp the edge of her dress, and then the echo deepened and fell into a steady rhythm until he was walking in long confident steps, and going further, further, slipping by her like sand in an hourglass…

Come morning, he would once again take on the role of the guildmaster of Fairy Tail. He would watch over his children the same way she did. Keep them together with mutual love and support, make sure that the world didn't turn their hearts hard, didn't use their pain to create hate and make them forget that the world, despite all of its flaws, was indeed a beautiful place.

"... Rita would be so proud of you too," her voice shook for a moment and she let her hand linger on his cheek. A single teardrop sneaked out from behind his eyelids, and she wanted nothing more than to wipe it away, take all the hurt and make it better. But she couldn't.

It took an effort to move her hand away and she stood up, the glow around her dissolving into thin air.

This was Makarov's burden now. The hurdle of every parent. The mantle he willingly took upon himself. These were his children.

He would wake up in the morning, sore and in pain, still missing one of them, but the stain of darkness would not be there, weighting him down. He would find the strength to get up, face the rest of his children and help them mend their own hearts. And she would be in the background, silently watching it unfold before her.

She brushed her hand against his cheek lovingly one last time, content to see his fingers uncurled and expression relaxed despite the tear stains. Silently she sneaked out of the room. "Sleep well Makarov."

~~ (O) ~~

The First strolled around the guild's hallways, picking off a phantom here, a phantom there; hunting them down from high up where they hung like loose cobwebs down to the cubbyholes bellow the rare intact pieces of furniture. And then an unusual thought occurred to her.

The wavy movements of her hands, the way her eyes prowled around corners and unlikely surfaces. She wondered what it reminded her of. It felt familiar. Just on the tip of her tongue. Like she was-

_(You're dusting, Princes.)_

Mavis paused, tilting her head to the side. "I am?"

_(Well, you are, in a way, cleaning the guild, aren't you?)_

_(Right?)_

_(… Right.) _

Her face lit up. "Oh my stars, you're right!" It _was_ like she was dusting!

Excitement simmered beneath her skin, zapping her with such a rush of energy she couldn't help but adopt a little skip in her step.

She was cleaning! Tidying up! Making her home spick and span! Clean as a whistle! Rid from those nasty little phantoms! The whole idea was simply too wonderful not to indulge! She hadn't dusted in years! She picked up her pace with a smile that couldn't get any bigger and ran up and down the hallways, floated to places she couldn't normally reach, chasing off or picking up one phantom at a time and dropping them ungracefully outside. Her body started glowing again, the sparkles that trailed behind her wafting out the gloom and what could only be described as a bad aftertaste in the air.

"Come on, out out out!" she chanted, chasing down a little group, "Can't have you hanging around here when my guest arrives."

They rounded a corner and in their panic the phantoms phased through the wall and out of the guild.

"Ohhh, this is so fun!" she giggled, skipping on her toes and holding up her fists in delight, "Quick, quick! Are there any we missed?" She turned on her heel, looking around and smiling. "There was that little group that got away back when we were cleaning the west side! Any idea where they ran off?"

_(...I think they'll have to wait.)_

"Nonsense! The boy will be here any moment now," she said, still buzzing with excitement and working herself into a stride, "And I want this place spotless! Not a phantom in sight! Now I bet they ran back up-"

_(Umm, Princes?)_

"-but if not, the next best options would be to check the upstairs bathroom-"

_(Mavis?)_

"-For some reason they really like hanging around there, it's really weird if you think about it, I mean people go there to-"

_(Oi! You- you're not listening!)_

"-no concept of privacy! In any case I bet we can cut them off at the staircase and just-"

_(MAVIS!)_

She stopped in her tracks. The girl blinked when the realization struck her.

_(...He's back.)_

Her brow crinkled and Mavis turned her head to the darkened hallway beside her, "… so he is."

~~ ( O ) ~~

Beep… Beep… Beep… -was the first thing she heard when she phased through the door. The sound of a heart-monitor.

The second was a snore, uneven and so unbelievably oafish and loud that it would have startled her had she not known the person had been there several days in a row now.

Mavis gazed around the infirmary, eyes passing briefly over the comatose girl and the slayer who was ungracefully sprawled in a chair by her bed. She would have found the sight precious if she didn't have prior business.

"I thought I told you," she said, face blank, "If you're not gonna follow my rules then you're not welcome here."

Silence prevailed for several moments. And then darkness exploded in front of her. Gusts of inky smoke rolled over the wall and floor across the room, just as angry and dangerous as a stormcloud at sea. Two white slits snapped open, glaring at her.

"_**a**n**D** I **t**H**o**u**Gh**t **I** t**O**ld y**O**u **to** **p**IS**s** o**F**F b**rA**t." _

Her own eyes narrowed in response. "I'm getting tired of repeating myself."

"_s**O** **a**M** I**,**L**i**tT**L**e** **g**Ir**L**. **f**IN**d****E**r**s** k**e****E**p**ER**s," _it hissed.

"They. are. _n__ot. _yours." Her fists clenched when the shadow laughed.

"_**oh**Hh **I** b**E**g t**O** di**F****F**E**r**. I'**vE** be**E**n h**ER**e f**O**r **Y**e**A**rS b**E**f**OR**e y**O**u **d**Eci**DE**d t**O** s**H**O**w** u**P**. **i**F y**O**u **tH**in**K** I'm j**Us**t g**O**n**NA** **c**LE**aR** **o**U**t**, th**E**n y**O**u'**R**e **m**OR**e** n**A**iv**E** t**HA**n y**O**u a**PP**e**aR**."_

The darkness started crawling towards them and Mavis didn't hesitate when she took a protective step between it and the two mages. Her skin lit up in a flash, blindingly bright and burning the shadows back.

"I'm not letting you take advantage of this," she said and it reeled back with a shriek. Its eyes flashed in rage, the smoke seethed, brewing in its own anger, becoming thicker and towering over her like a tsunami. Mavis didn't even bat an eyelash- she stared down the storm before her, unyielding like a mountain.

"_y__**O**__u c__**A**__n'T __**b**__E eV__**E**__ry__**W**__H__**eR**__e __**r**__Un__**t**__,"_ it spat venomously, sounding like it wanted nothing more than to rip her apart given the chance. _"m__**A**__y__**b**__E y__**O**__u'__R__**e **__**s**__TRo__**N**__gE__**r**__, b__**U**__t y__**O**__u'R__**e**__ aT A __**b**__i__**G**__gEr __**d**__Is__**A**__dvA__**nt**__aGe th__**A**__n y__**O**__u __**k**__N__**o**__W."_

"I'm not warning you again," she said threateningly, taking a step forward. "Get. Out."

A deep growl resonated from within, but the darkness essentially pulled back. Its eyes narrowed at her in controlled fury, before it glanced over the occupied bed. Raw anger and delight brimmed in its voice, _"__**I**__ c__**A**__n'__T__**w**__A__i__**t**__ f__**O**__r __**t**__h__**I**__s o__**N**__e t__O__**w**__AK__**e**__ u__**P**__."_

"Out!" she burst out, the shadow vanished and Gajeel bolted up.

"Huh- Whaassa-" he blinked, sleepy and disoriented.

It took him a moment to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the infirmary. He looked around, gazing carefully about the empty room, before he glanced over to Juvia.

Still sleeping.

No movements, no twitches, just steady breathing and mechanical beeping. The slayer settled back into his chair with a huff.

He must have imagined it.

~~ ( O ) ~~

The problem with unwanted life-changes was that they still existed outside of your scope of control. Getting used to them was even harder, but that was a whole different problem.

A single day is filled up with routines that, no matter how mundane or small, grew into habits. When it gets dark, it only makes sense to turn on the lights. When you want to sit, you sit. When you wanna go somewhere, you open the fucking door and go!

But the problem persisted... because Gray couldn't do any of that shit.

It started as an annoyance, because silly him, _of course_ he couldn't very well just open the door to his own house like a normal person. But by the tenth time he missed the door handle Gray was ready to punch something, which, ironically, he_ also_ couldn't do!

He could also forget about turning the lights on. It was like a friggin' joke because, of course, who would have thought that during nighttime ghost, ghouls and such 'creatures of the night', ironically couldn't see jack-shit in the _same fucking dark_?

The more he fucked up and ended up phasing through stuff, the more he became confused as to how the whole thing even worked. It occurred to him the moment he tried sitting down in the same armchair he sat in when the girls were over, and he somehow ended up falling through it on his ass.

The whole thing was just confusing as heck.

So with nothing but time on his hands, the alchemist decided to do some… experimenting. Call it morbid curiosity, call it boredom or procrastinating, but there were several hours before midnight and, well, he had nothing better to do. Gray spent the following time poking, prodding and ultimately passing his hand through whatever object he set his sights on. But with no different outcome each time around, the whole thing got old real fast.

What in the world was he even supposed to do with himself. He stared angrily at his feet planted firmly on the ground and briefly wondered about the fact that he wasn't _sinking_ through it, and that also made no fucking sense! Talk about selective physics.

_Gravity works in mysterious ways,_ he sneered to himself.

And yet there _was _something holding him still firmly attached to this place, a force just as invisible and incomprehensible. He needed to rationalize it somehow, he thought he would go crazy otherwise. He needed to talk it out, because he was already feeling the withdrawal symptoms that come from being able to talk to _one _fucking person in the whole world. And it was the exact person he needed to interrogate more on how this whole dumb schtick worked because the more and more he thought about it, the less and less the mechanics made sense to him.

The thought made him glance at the clock several times in a row. Impatience nipped at him and a low wave of anxiety rolled around his stomach at midnight's approach. He still hadn't figured anything out.

It made him uncomfortable, knowing he had been a bumbling mess and nearly lost his shit twice in front of her already. He would not allow himself a third time.

So, the mage took a deep breath and thought of what he would say to his friends over her. Gray paced the room, trying to organize his thoughts and words in order, dig deep inside himself to pull out the words he needed because he felt at a complete loss. It was like he couldn't form a single thought that started at point A and finished at point B. All he could find in his head were heart-wrenching images of his friends, crying in front of his grave. It was a frustrating mess in his head, a whole fucking tangled yarn and the more he tried to unravel it, the more he got caught up in it.

Words were scarce, and by the time he needed to leave, Gray really had to wonder if anything he said would truly be enough to say goodbye to his friends.

~~ ( O ) ~~

The guild's doors towered over him, and Gray almost made the mistake of reaching for the door handle again. Huh, maybe he was finally starting to get used to this?

With a deep breath, he extended his hand and slowly, like how one tested the water in a bathtub, phased through the doors.

_Scratch that_, he shuddered once he emerged to the other side, _Still weird._

The spacious lobby greeted him, empty, sort of dark and so, soooo bizarrely quiet that it made him uncomfortable. Funny. He'd been coming here for eight years now and this might have been the first time he ever felt so out of place.

"Um… hello?" he called out, "Anyone here?"

He didn't get an answer. Instead, he spotted a weak glow, faintly shimmering behind the end of the bar. Gray frowned, wondering what on Earth was the First guildmaster doing? He sincerely hoped that she outgrew hide-and-seek, as he walked towards her.

"First?" he said, slowly rounding the corner, "What are you-"

… she wasn't there.

The vacant space was illuminated by a single flickering flame. A candle, softly burning away, surrounded by picture frames.

For a while, he just stood there. Caught mid-breath and eyes tracing over the chronological mess of faces bathed in candlelight and smiling back at him.

Group photos from over the years, from when they were all just little kids, from shared vacations and picnics and fishing trips and other moments he couldn't exactly place on a timeline. He wondered if he stared at them long enough, would he remember them all? Would the voices drift back to him? The words said before and after the pictures were taken? Would he see the shapes and smiles just as clearly and vividly or see them through a keyhole?

And there it was. The heart that he supposedly didn't have in his chest anymore, still somehow hurting and bleeding through those thick and stale layers of self-preserving apathy.

It didn't escape him how all the frames were compiled and arranged around a lone, singled-out one. The very same one that held his own image, shaped with soft pencil lines and dabs of watercolors. He had seen enough of Reedus' drawings to know this was his artwork.

The urge to reach out and run his fingers over the pictures and faces was almost overwhelming. And that awoke a deep sadness within him. A sadness that streamed from something else. Something he felt arise from the very bottom of his being.

"I gotta admit, the drawing is pretty accurate."

"Gah!" he stumbled back, head whipping to the girl standing next to him. "When'd you get here?!"

An innocent tilt of her head. "I've been here for a while now."

_A while?_ He frowned, feeling embarrassed. Talk about being light on your fe-... Nevermind.

"That was really nice of them, don't you think?" Mavis clasped her hands behind her back and gazed almost longingly at the little display. They stood in mutual silence for a while, basking in the candlelight glow. "It kind of reminds me of a hug," she grinned up at him.

He didn't respond. Sure, he could see why it reminded her of that, with the whole circular arrangement and everything. It was a nice metaphor. However, it reminded him of something else. Of a single fact he forgot all too easily. A message that was engraved within every picture here, within every frame and captured smile.

He was never alone in Fairy Tail.

"So," she said suddenly, "Feeling any better?"

Gray nodded, still gazing at the pictures.

"So you're over the whole denial phase?"

Gray sighed and turned around, only to notice that she wasn't beside him anymore but was rather sitting at the table behind him. He frowned, wondering how she did that, before shaking the question off. He'd ask her later. He had more pressing matters.

"In a way, I guess." There were only so many times one could fail to open a single door until it sunk in. "It's not the easiest thing to get used to."

"Understandable," she patted the table, "Come, sit with me."

The mage eyed the seat warily, recalling how he ungracefully fell through his armchair. "I'll... stand, thanks."

"Suit yourself," she clasped her hands, "Now, you and I have a lot to discuss."

He supposed they did. "I'm assuming you want to clue me in about those things?"

"… Oh, you mean the phantoms?" she chuckled at his confused expression, "That's what I call them at least."

"Right. Them. Ummm, I see there aren't any of those things around now," he said lamely.

"Of course not!" she beamed at him. "I chased them out."

"So they're gone?" he raised an eyebrow, skeptical, "For good?"

Her smile turned sympathetic. "Just because you clean your house once, doesn't mean it won't get dirty again."

He had a feeling that would be the case. "So they'll be back," he stated, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking back to the little shrine made for him.

"Like I told you, they latch onto negative emotions, they're drawn to them. And emotions don't just go away on their own. Especially these ones," she said, following his gaze.

Meaning, as long as his friends grieved and mourned his death, the phantoms would constantly be hanging around Fairy Tail, leeching off his nakama.

Having experienced it on his own, Gray knew grief and how it progressed. How it messed with a person, how self-pity, regret and depression in the face of someone's death were strenuous states that were as suffocating and cold as the ocean's depths; stay in them long enough and you end up with no strength to swim to the surface, drowning under your own weight.

"So how do we keep them out?"

Mavis looked up, surprised at the raw determination she saw in his eyes.

_We_, it echoed in her head, and she found herself holding back a smile. "You wanna learn?"

Gray crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, I don't plan on spending an eternity hiding in my house, being a sitting duck. Didn't you say that they were dangerous to my existence?" If it could even be called that.

"Besides," he said with the same spunk and resolution she witnessed when he said he'd face Rufus, "I'm not about to sit around doing nothing while those things make themselves at home here. Who the hell do you think I am?"

_(Ha! That's a Fairy Tail member alright!)_

"Alright," she said, eyes facing his. "But if I'm gonna teach you, there are a-"

"Who the hell are ya yammering to?"

Both of them froze, caught off guard by the dark figure looming over them without either of them noticing. Red eyes glared down at her, making hers grow wide in surprise. And then Mavis sighed in relief.

"Gajeel, you startled me," she said, placing a hand to her chest, "I thought you were asleep."

"Freaking hell," Gray muttered just as relieved as her. He wasn't expecting anyone to be at the guild.

The Dragon Slayer sneered, walking down the rest of the steps. "Kind of hard to sleep with you talking so loudly to-" Gajeel stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide and firmly planted on Gray. Gray stared back, just as wide-eyed and startled.

"Fucking hell..."

Something akin to panic crossed his face and then Gajeel's face twisted in anger. He growled, nostrils fuming and marched right towards him. Gray opened his mouth, "Gajeel-" "Bloody freaking morons!"

The slayer stalked right through him. "They wanna burn down the whole guild or somthin'?" he gritted through his teeth and put out the candle with his fingers.

Gray stood motionless, hand on his chest and eyes lowered. He slipped up again. A weak chuckle. "Heh, good to know someone is keeping their head around here, right?" he said, looking back up at her. She donned her usual smile and he suddenly recognized the same subtle shift in her expression he saw at the funeral.

He blinked. Something was off. "First?"

"So is this what ya do every night?" Gajeel asked, facing her, "Sit around the guild an' talk to yourself?"

She giggled. "Hihi, I guess I tend to do that." She wasn't looking at him. Why wasn't she looking at him? "I'm afraid it's a habit. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Well, ya did," he grumbled, ripping off the padlock around kitchen doors and threw it into his mouth to chew.

Anger flared in his eyes and Gray clenched his fists. It was only when Gajeel entered the kitchen did she actually look at him. "Why didn't tell him you could see me?"

Her eyes bore into his, calm and calculating, and a sinking feeling spread through his stomach.

"… because I don't plan on telling anyone."

* * *

**It just occurred to me that this is officially the longest story I have ever written! So bravo me! **

**Awwww Makarov and Mavis feels ;A; It's moments like these that essentially inspire me with new story plots. **

**Anyway!**

**Who, oh who, is our dear Mavis talking to? What is she planning? Why do I keep asking questions I don't plan on answering? Any ideas? Let me know! Reviews and feedback are always welcome. Still looking for them songs, so if you recall any, do share!**

**Until the next update!**

**xMF**


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